RE'M 


ELINOR 


•:':       A    :''•:«  ; 

AMBROSINE    EUSTASIE,  MARQUISE    DE    CALINCOURT 


Guillotined   \  793 


The  Reflections  of 
Ambrosine  &   &    & 


Bobel 


by 

Elinor  Glyn 
a 


New  York  and  London 

Harper    &    Brothers 

Publishers    igo2 


Copyright,  1902,  by  ELINOR  GLYM. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  November,  1902. 


NOTE 

IN  thanking  the  readers  who  were  kind  enough  to 
appreciate  my  "Visits  of  Elizabeth,"  I  take  this  oppor- 
tunity of  saying  that  I  did  not  write  the  two  other  books 
which  appeared  anonymously.  The  titles  of  those  works 
were  so  worded  that  they  gave  the  public  the  impression 
that  I  was  their  author.  I  have  never  written  any  book 
but  the  "Visits  of  Elizabeth."  Everything  that  I  write 

will  be  signed  with  my  name, 

ELINOR  GLYN 


912846. 


BOOK  I 


THE 
REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 


I  HAVE  wondered  sometimes  if  there  are  not 
perhaps  some  disadvantages  in  having  really 
blue  blood  in  one's  veins,  like  grandmamma 
and  me.  For  instance,  if  we  were  ordinary,  com- 
mon people  our  teeth  would  chatter  naturally 
with  cold  when  we  have  to  go  to  bed  without 
fires  in  our  rooms  in  December;  but  we  pretend 
we  like  sleeping  in  "  well-aired  rooms  " — at  least 
I  have  to.  Grandmamma  simply  says  we  ate 
obliged  to  make  these  small  economies,  and  to 
grumble  would  be  to  lose  a  trick  to  fate. 

"Rebel  if  you  can  improve  matters/'  she 
often  tells  me,  "  but  otherwise  accept  them  with 
calmness." 

We  have  had  to  accept  a  good  many  things 
with  calmness  since  papa  made  that  tiresome 
speculation  in  South  America.  Before  that  we 
had  a  nice  apartment  in  Paris  and  as  many 
fires  as  we  wished.  However,  in  spite  of  the 

3 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

comfort,  grandmamma  hated  papa's  "making" 
money.  It  wa:*  not  the  career  of  a  gentleman, 
she  said,  and  when  the  smash  came  and  one 
heard  no  more  of  papa,  I  have  an  idea  she  was 
almost  relieved. 

We  came  first  over  to  England,  and,  after  long 
wanderings  backward  and  forward,  took  this 
little  furnished  place  at  the  corner  of  Ledstone 
Park.  It  is  just  a  cottage — once  a  keeper's,  I 
believe  —  and  we  have  only  Hephzibah  and  a 
wretched  servant-girl  to  wait  on  us.  Hephzibah 
was  my  nurse  in  America  before  we  ever  went 
to  Paris,  and  she  is  as  ugly  as  a  card-board  face 
on  Guy  Fawkes  day,  and  as  good  as  gold. 

Grandmamma  has  had  a  worrying  life.  She 
was  brought  up  at  the  court  of  Charles  X. — can 
one  believe  it,  all  those  years  ago! — her  family 
up  to  that  having  lived  in  Ireland  since  the  great 
Revolution.  Indeed,  her  mother  was  Irish,  and 
I  think  grandmamma  still  speaks  French  with 
an  accent.  (I  hope  she  will  never  know  I  said 
that.)  Her  name  was  Mademoiselle  de  Calin- 
court,  the  daughter  of  the  Marquis  de  Calm- 
court,  whose  family  had  owned  Calincourt  since 
the  time  of  Charlemagne  or  something  before 
that.  So  it  was  annoying  for  them  to  have  had 
their  heads  chopped  off  and  to  be  obliged  to 
live  in  Dublin  on  nothing  a  year.  The  grand- 
mother of  grandmamma,  Ambrosine  Eustasie 
de  Calincourt,  after  whom  I  am  called,  was  a 
famous  character.  She  was  so  good-looking  that 

4 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Robespierre  offered  to  let  her  retain  her  head 
if  she  would  give  him  a  kiss,  but  she  preferred 
to  drive  to  the  guillotine  in  the  cart  with  her 
friends,  only  she  took  a  rose  to  keep  off  the  smell 
of  the  common  people,  and,  they  say,  ran  up  the 
steps  smiling.  Grandmamma  has  her  minia- 
ture, and  it  is,  she  says,  exactly  like  me. 

I  have  heard  that  grandmamma's  marriage 
with  grandpapa — an  Englishman — was  consid- 
ered at  the  time  to  be  a  very  suitable  affair. 
He  had  also  ancestors  since  before  Edward  the 
Confessor.  However,  unfortunately,  a  few  years 
after  their  marriage  (grandmamma  was  really 
un  pen  passte  when  that  took  place)  grandpapa 
made  a  betise — something  political  or  diplomatic, 
but  I  have  never  heard  exactly  what;  anyway, 
it  obliged  them  to  leave  hurriedly  and  go  to 
America.  Grandmamma  never  speaks  of  her 
life  there  or  of  grandpapa,  so  I  suppose  he  died, 
because  when  I  first  remember  things  we  were 
crossing  to  France  in  a  big  ship  —  just  papa, 
grandmamma,  and  I.  My  mother  died  when  I 
was  born.  She  was  an  American  of  one  of  the 
first  original  families  in  Virginia;  that  is  all 
I  know  of  her.  We  have  never  had  a  great 
many  friends — even  when  we  lived  in  Paris — 
because,  you  see,  as  a  rule  people  don't  live  so 
long  as  grandmamma,  and  the  other  maids  of 
honor  of  the  court  of  Charles  X.  were  all  buried 
years  ago.  Grandmamma  was  eighty-eight  last 
July!  No  one  would  think  it  to  look  at  her. 

5 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

She  is  not  deaf  or  blind  or  any  of  those  annoying 
things,  and  she  sits  bolt -upright  in  her  chair, 
and  her  face  is  not  very  wrinkled — more  like 
fine,  old,  white  kid.  Her  hair  is  arranged  with 
such  a  chic;  it  is  white,  but  she  always  has  it  a 
little  powdered  as  well,  and  she  wears  such  be- 
coming caps,  rather  like  the  pictures  of  Madame 
du  Deffand.  They  are  always  of  real  lace — I 
know,  for  I  have  to  mend  them.  Some  of  her 
dresses  are  a  trifle  shabby,  but  they  look  splendid 
when  she  puts  them  on,  and  her  eyes  are  the 
eyes  of  a  hawk,  the  proudest  eyes  I  have  ever 
seen.  Her  third  and  little  fingers  are  bent  with 
rheumatism,  but  she  still  polishes  her  nails  and 
covers  the  rest  of  her  hands  with  mittens.  You 
can't  exactly  love  grandmamma,  but  you  feel 
you  respect  her  dreadfully,  and  it  is  a  great 
honor  when  she  is  pleased. 

I  was  twelve  when  we  left  Paris,  and  I  am 
nineteen  now.  We  have  lived  on  and  off  in 
England  ever  since,  part  of  the  time  in  London — 
that  was  dull!  All  those  streets  and  faces,  and 
no  one  to  speak  to,  and  the  mud  and  the  fogs! 

During  those  years  we  have  only  twice  had 
glimpses  of  papa — the  shortest  visits,  with  long 
talks  alone  with  grandmamma  and  generally 
leaving  by  the  early  train. 

He  seems  to  me  to  be  rather  American,  papa, 
and  very  coarse  to  be  the  son  of  grandmamma ; 
but  I  must  say  I  have  always  had  a  sneaking 
affection  for  him.  He  never  takes  much  notice 

6 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

of  me— a  pat  on  the  head  when  I  was  a  child, 
and  since  an  awkward  kiss,  as  if  he  was  afraid 
of  breaking  a  bit  of  china.  I  feel  somehow  that 
he  does  not  share  all  of  grandmamma's  views; 
he  seems,  in  fact,  like  a  person  belonging  to  quite 
another  world  than  ours.  If  it  was  not  that  he 
has  the  same  nose  and  chin  as  grandmamma, 
one  would  say  she  had  bought  him  somewhere, 
and  that  he  could  not  be  her  own  son. 

Hephzibah  says  he  is  good-natured,  so  per- 
haps that  is  why  he  made  a  betise  in  South  Amer- 
ica. One  ought  never  to  be  called  good-natured, 
grandmamma  says  —  as  well  write  one's  self 
down  a  noodle  at  once.  While  we  were  in  Paris 
we  hardly  ever  saw  papa  either;  he  was  always 
out  West  in  America,  or  at  Rio,  or  other  odd 
places.  All  we  knew  of  him  was,  there  was  plen- 
ty of  money  to  grandmamma's  account  in  the 
bank. 

Grandmamma  has  given  me  most  of  my  educa- 
tion herself  since  we  came  to  England,  and  she 
has  been  especially  particular  about  deportment. 
I  have  never  been  allowed  to  lean  back  in  my 
chair  or  loll  on  a  sofa,  and  she  has  taught  me 
how  to  go  in  and  out  of  a  room  and  how  to  en- 
ter a  carriage.  We  had  not  a  carriage,  so  we 
had  to  arrange  with  footstools  for  the  steps  and 
a  chair  on  top  of  a  box  for  the  seat.  That  used 
to  make  me  laugh! — but  I  had  to  do  it — into 
myself.  As  for  walking,  I  can  carry  any  sized 
bundle  on  my  head,  and  grandmamma  says 

7 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

she  has  nothing  further  to  teach  me  in  that 
respect,  and  that  I  have  mastered  the  fact  that 
a  gentlewoman  should  give  the  impression  that 
the  ground  is  hardly  good  enough  to  tread  on. 
She  has  also  made  me  go  through  all  kinds  of 
exercises  to  insure  suppleness,  and  to  move  from 
the  hips.  And  the  day  she  told  me  she  was 
pleased  I  shall  never  forget. 

There  are  three  things,  she  says,  a  woman 
ought  to  look — straight  as  a  dart,  supple  as  a 
snake,  and  proud  as  a  tiger-lily. 

Besides  deportment,  I  seem  to  have  learned  a 
lot  of  stuff  that  I  am  sure  no  English  girls  have 
to  bother  about,  and  I  probably  am  unacquaint- 
ed with  half  the  useful,  interesting  things  they 
know. 

We  brought  with  us  a  beautifully  bound  set 
of  French  classics,  and  we  read  Voltaire  one 
day,  and  La  Bruyere  the  next,  and  Pascal,  and 
Fontenelle,  and  Moliere,  and  F£nelon,  and  the 
sermons  of  Bossuet,  and  since  I  have  been  seven- 
teen the  Maximes  of  La  Rochefoucauld.  Grand- 
mamma dislikes  Jean  Jacques ;  she  says  he  help- 
ed the  Revolution,  and  she  is  all  for  the  ancien 
regime.  But  in  all  these  books  she  makes  me 
skip  what  I  am  sure  are  the  nice  parts,  and  there 
are  whole  volumes  of  Voltaire  that  I  may  not 
even  look  into.  For  herself  grandmamma  has 
numbers  of  modern  books  and  papers.  She 
says  she  must  understand  the  times.  Besides 
all  these  things  I  have  had  English  governesses 

8 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

who  have  done  what  they  could  to  drum  a  smat- 
tering of  everything  into  my  head,  but  we  never 
were  able  to  afford  very  good  ones  after  we  left 
Paris. 

There  is  one  thing  I  can  do  better  than  the 
English  girls — I  am  English  myself,  of  course, 
on  account  of  grandpapa  —  only  I  mean  the 
ones  who  have  lived  here  always — and  that  is, 
embroider  fine  cambric.  I  do  all  our  under- 
linen,  and  it  is  quite  as  nice  as  that  in  the  shops 
in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix.  Grandmamma  says 
a  lady,  however  poor,  should  wear  fine  linen, 
even  if  she  has  only  one  new  dress  a  year — she 
calls  the  stuff  worn  by  people  here  "sail-cloth"! 
So  I  stitch  and  stitch,  summer  and  winter. 

I  do  wonder  and  wonder  at  things  sometimes : 
what  it  would  be  like  to  be  rich,  for  instance,  and 
to  have  brothers  and  sisters  and  friends;  and 
what  it  would  be  like  to  have  a  lover  h  Van- 
glaise.  Grandmamma  would  think  that  dread- 
fully improper  until  after  one  was  married,  but 
I  believe  it  would  be  rather  nice,  and  perhaps 
one  could  marry  him,  too.  However,  there  is 
not  much  chance  of  my  getting  one,  or  a  husband 
either,  as  I  have  no  dot. 

We  have  an  old  friend,  the  Marquis  de  Rocher- 
mont,  who  pays  us  periodical  visits.  I  believe 
long  ago  he  was  grandmamma's  lover.  They 
have  such  beautiful  manners  together,  and  their 
conversation  is  so  interesting,  one  can  fancy 
one's  self  back  in  that  dainty  world  of  the  engrav- 

9 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

ings  of  Moreau  le  Jeune  and  Freudenberg  which 
we  have.  They  are  as  gay  and  witty  as  if  they 
were  both  young  and  his  feet  were  not  lumpy 
with  gout  and  her  hands  crooked  with  rheuma- 
tism. They  discuss  morals  and  religion,  and, 
above  all,  philosophy,  and  I  have  learned  a  great 
deal  by  listening.  And  for  morals,  it  seems  one 
may  do  what  one  pleases  as  long  as  one  behaves 
like  a  lady.  And  for  religion,  the  first  thing 
is  to  conform  to  the  country  one  lives  in  and 
to  conduct  one's  self  with  decency.  As  for 
Philosophy  (I  put  a  great  big  "P"  to  that,  for 
it  appears  to  be  the  chief)  — Philosophy  seems  to 
settle  everything  in  life,  and  enables  one  to  take 
the  ups  and  downs  of  fate,  the  good  and  the  bad, 
with  a  smiling  face.  I  mean  to  study  it  always, 
but  I  dare  say  it  will  be  easier  when  I  am  older. 
On  the  days  when  Monsieur  de  Rochermont 
comes  grandmamma  wears  the  lavender  silk  for 
dinner  and  the  best  Alengon  cap,  and  Heph- 
zibah  stays  so  long  dressing  her  that  I  often 
have  to  help  the  servant  to  lay  the  table  for  din- 
ner. The  Marquis  never  arrives  until  the  after- 
noon, and  leaves  within  a  couple  of  days.  He 
brings  an  old  valet  called  Theodore,  and  they 
have  bandboxes  and  small  valises,  and  I  believe 
— only  I  must  not  say  it  aloud — that  the  band- 
boxes contain  his  wigs.  The  one  for  dinner  is 
curled  and  scented,  and  the  travelling  one  is 
much  more  ordinary.  I  am  sent  to  bed  early  on 
those  evenings. 

10 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Each  time  the  Marquis  brings  a  present  of 
game  or  fine  fruit  for  grandmamma  and  a  box 
of  bonbons  for  me.  I  don't  like  sweets  much, 
but  the  boxes  are  charming.  These  visits  hap- 
pen twice  a  year,  in  June  and  December,  wher- 
ever we  happen  to  be. 

The  only  young  men  in  this  part  of  the  world 
are  the  curate  and  two  hobbledehoys,  the  sons 
of  a  person  who  lives  in  the  place  beyond  Led- 
stone,  and  they  are  common  and  uninteresting 
and  parvenu.  All  these  people  came  to  call  as 
soon  as  we  arrived,  and  parsons  and  old  maids 
by  the  dozen,  but  grandmamma's  exquisite  po- 
liteness upsets  them.  I  suppose  they  feel  that 
she  considers  they  are  not  made  of  the  same 
flesh  and  blood  as  she  is,  so  we  never  get  inti- 
mate with  anybody  whatever  places  we  are  in. 

Hephzibah  has  a  lover.  You  can  get  one  in 
that  class  no  matter  how  ugly  you  are,  it  seems, 
and  he  is  generally  years  and  years  younger  than 
you  are.  Hephzibah' s  is  the  man  who  comes 
round  with  the  grocer's  cart  for  orders,  and  he 
is  young  enough  to  be  her  son.  I  have  seen 
them  talking  when  I  have  been  getting  the  irons 
hot  to  iron  grandmamma's  best  lace.  Heph- 
zibah's  face,  which  is  a  grayish  yellow  gen- 
erally, gets  a  pale  beet-root  up  to  her  ears,  and 
she  looks  so  coy.  But  I  dare  say  it  feels  lovely 
to  her  to  stand  there  at  the  back  door  and  know 
some  one  is  interested  in  what  she  does  and 
says. 

II 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSJNE 

Ledstone  Park  is  owned  by  some  people  of 
the  name  of  Gurrage — does  not  it  sound  a  fat 
word!  They  are  a  mother  and  son,  but  they 
have  been  at  Bournemouth  ever  since  we  came, 
six  months  ago.  It  is  a  frightful  place,  and  al- 
though it  is  miles  in  the  country  it  looks  like 
a  suburban  villa;  the  outside  is  all  stucco,  and 
nasty,  common  -  looking  pots  and  bad  statues 
ornament  the  drive.  They  pulled  down  the 
smaller  original  Jacobean  house  that  was  there 
when  they  bought  the  place,  we  have  heard. 
They  are  corning  home  soon,  so  perhaps  we 
shall  see  them,  but  I  can't  think  Gurrage  could 
be  the  name  of  really  nice  people.  The  parson 
of  the  church  came  to  call  at  once,  but  grand- 
mamma nearly  made  him  spoil  his  hat,  he  fidg- 
eted with  it  so,  and  he  hardly  dared  to  ask  for 
more  than  one  subscription — she  is  so  beautiful- 
ly polite,  and  she  often  is  laughing  in  her  sleeve. 
She  says  so  few  people  can  see  the  comic  side  of 
things  and  that  it  is  a  great  gift  and  chases  away 
foolish  migraines.  I  think  she  has  a  grand 
scheme  in  her  head  for  me,  and  that  is  what  we 
are  saving  up  every  penny  for. 

Grandpapa's  people  lived  in  the  next  county 
to  this,  in  a  place  called  Dane  Mount.  He  was 
a  younger  son  and  in  the  diplomatic  service  be- 
fore he  made  his  bftise,  but  if  he  was  alive  now 
he  would  be  over  a  hundred  years  old,  so  during 
that  time  the  family  has  naturally  branched  off 
a  good  deal,  and  we  can't  be  said  to  be  very  near- 

12 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

ly  related  to  them.  The  place  was  not  entailed, 
and  went  with  the  female  line  into  the  Thorn- 
hirst  family,  who  live  there  now.  They  are 
rather  new  baronets,  created  by  George  II.  How- 
ever, I  believe  grandmamma's  scheme  is  for  us 
to  become  acquainted  with  them,  and  for  me  to 
marry  whichever  of  them  is  the  right  age.  The 
present  baronet's  name  is  Sir  Antony;  it  is  a 
pretty  name,  I  think.  How  this  is  to  come  about 
I  do  not  know,  and  of  course  I  dare  not  question 
grandmamma. 

How  I  wish  it  was  summer  again!  I  hate 
these  damp,  cold  days,  and  the  east  winds,  and 
the  darkness.  I  wish  I  might  stay  in  bed  until 
eleven,  as  grandmamma  does.  We  have  our 
chocolate  at  seven,  which  Hephzibah  brings  up, 
and  then  when  I  am  dressed  I  practise  for  an 
hour ;  after  that  there  are  the  finishing  touches  to 
be  put  to  our  sitting-room,  and  the  best  Sevres 
and  the  miniatures  to  be  dusted.  Grandmamma 
would  not  trust  any  one  to  do  it  but  me,  but 
by  ten  I  can  get  out  for  a  walk. 

It  used  to  be  dreadfully  tiresome  until  we 
came  here,  because  I  was  never  allowed  to  go 
out  without  Hephzibah,  and  she  was  so  busy 
we  never  got  a  chance  in  the  morning,  but  since 
we  came  here  I  have  had  such  a  pleasure.  A 
dear,  clever  collie  for  a  friend — we  got  him  from 
the  lost  dogs'  home,  and  no  one  can  know  the 
joy  he  is  to  me.  Grandmamma  considers  him 
a  kind  of  chaperon,  and  I  am  allowed  to  go 

13 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

alone  for  quite  long  walks  now,  and  when  we 
are  out  of  sight  and  no  one  is  looking  we  run, 
and  it  is  such  fun.  Yesterday  there  was  an 
excitement— the  hunt  passed!  It  is  the  first  time 
I  have  seen  one  close.  That  must  be  delightful 
to  rush  along  on  horseback!  I  could  feel  my 
heart  beating  just  looking  at  them,  and  my 
dear  Roy  barked  all  the  time,  and  if  I  had  not 
held  his  collar  I  am  sure  he  would  have  joined 
the  other  dogs  to  go  and  catch  the  fox.  Some 
of  the  men  in  their  red  coats  looked  so  hand- 
some, and  there  was  one  all  covered  with  mud; 
he  must  have  had  a  tumble.  His  stirrup-leather 
gave  way  just  as  he  got  up  to  the  mound  where 
Roy  and  I  were  standing,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  get  off  his  horse  and  settle  it.  I  am  sure 
by  his  face  he  was  swearing  to  himself  at  being 
delayed.  His  fall  had  evidently  broken  some 
strap  and  he  was  fumbling  in  his  pocket  for 
a  knife  to  mend  it. 

I  always  wear  a  little  gold  chatelaine  that 
belonged  to  Ambrosine  Eustasie  de  Calincourt 
and  is  marked  with  her  coronet  and  initials; 
it  has  a  tiny  knife  among  the  other  things  hang- 
ing from  it.  The  muddy  hunter  could  not  find 
one;  he  searched  in  every  pocket.  At  last  he 
turned  to  me  and  said:  "Do  you  happen  to 
have  a  knife  by  chance?"  and  then  when  he  saw 
I  was  a  girl  he  took  off  his  hat.  It  was  gray 
with  clay,  and  so  was  half  of  his  face,  and  it  look- 
ed so  comic  I  could  not  help  smiling  as  I  caught 

14 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

his  one  eye;  the  other  was  rather  swollen.  The 
one  that  was  visible  was  a  grayish-greeny-blue 
eye  with  a  black  edge.  I  quickly  gave  him 
my  knife  and  he  laughed  as  he  took  it.  "Yes, 
I  do  look  a  guy,  don't  I?"  he  said,  and  we  both 
laughed  again.  Even  through  the  mud  one 
could  see  he  was  a  gentleman.  He  fixed  his 
stirrup  so  quickly  and  neatly,  but  it  broke  the 
blade  of  my  little  gold  knife. 

He  apologized  profusely,  and  said  he  must 
have  it  mended,  and  where  should  he  send  it? — 
but  at  that  moment  there  was  the  sound  of  the 
hunt  coming  across  a  field  near  again.  He  had 
no  time  for  more  manners,  but  jumped  on  his 
horse  and  was  off  in  a  few  seconds — and  alas! 
my  knife  went  with  him!  And  just  as  I  was 
turning  to  go  home  I  picked  up  the  broken  blade, 
which  was  lying  in  the  road.  I  hope  grand- 
mamma won't  notice  it  and  ask  about  it.  As 
I  said  before,  there  are  disadvantages  in  being 
well  born — one  cannot  tell  lies  like  servants. 


n 


THE  Gurrage  family  have  arrived.  We  saw 
carts  and  a  carriage  going  to  meet  them  at  the 
station.  Their  liveries  are  prune  and  scarlet, 
and  look  so  inharmonious,  and  they  seem  to 
have  crests  and  coats  of  arms  on  every  possible 
thing.  Young  Mr.  Gurrage  is  our  landlord — 
but  I  think  I  said  that  before. 

On  Sunday  in  church  the  party  entered  the 
Ledstone  family  pew.  An  oldish  woman  with 
a  huddled  figure — how  unlike  grandmamma! — 
looking  about  the  class  of  a  housekeeper;  a 
girl  of  my  age,  with  red  hair  and  white  eye- 
lashes and  a  buff  hat  on;  and  a  young  man, 
dark,  thick,  common-looking.  He  seemed  kind 
to  his  mother,  though,  and  arranged  a  cushion 
for  her.  Their  pew  is  at  right  angles  to  the 
one  I  sit  in,  so  I  have  a  full  view  of  them  all  the 
time.  He  has  box -pleated  teeth — which  seem 
quite  unnecessary  when  dentists  are  so  good 
now.  No  one  would  have  missed  at  least  four 
of  them  if  they  had  been  pulled  out  when  he 
was  a  boy.  His  eyes  are  wishy-washy  in  spite 
of  being  brown,  and  he  looks  as  if  he  did  not 
have  enough  sleep.  They  were  all  three  self- 

16 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

conscious  and  conscious  of  other  people.  Grand- 
mamma  says  in  a  public  place,  unless  the  exi- 
gencies of  politeness  require  one  to  come  into 
personal  contact  with  people,  one  ought  never 
to  be  aware  that  there  is  anything  but  tables 
and  chairs  about.  I  have  not  once  in  my  life 
seen  her  even  glance  around,  and  yet  nothing 
escapes  her  hawk  eye.  Coming  out  they  passed 
me  on  the  path  to  the  church  gate,  and  Mrs. 
Gurrage  stopped,  and  said: 

"  Good  -  mornin',  me  dear;  you  must  be  our 
new  tenant  at  the  cottage/' 

Her  voice  is  the  voice  of  quite  a  common  per- 
son and  has  the  broad  accent  of  some  county 
— I  don't  know  which. 

I  was  so  astonished  at  being  called  " me  dear" 
by  a  stranger  that  for  half  a  second  I  almost 
forgot  grandmamma's  maxim  of  "let  nothing 
in  life  put  you  out  of  countenance."  However, 
I  did  manage  to  say :  % 

"Yes,  I  am  Miss  Athelstan." 

Then  the  young  man  said,  "I  hope  you  find 
everything  to  your  liking  there,  and  that  my 
agent  has  made  things  comfortable." 

"  We  are  quite  pleased  with  the  cottage,"  I  said. 

"Well,  don't  stand  on  ceremony,"  the  old 
woman  continued.  "Come  up  and  see  us  at  The 
Hall  whenever  you  like,  me  dear,  and  I'll  be 
round  callin'  on  your  grandma  one  of  these 
days  soon,  but  don't  let  that  stop  her  if  she  likes 
to  look  in  at  me  first." 

17 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  thought  of  grandmamma  " looking  in"  on 
this  person,  and  I  could  have  laughed  aloud; 
however,  I  managed  to  say,  politely,  that  my 
grandmother  was  an  aged  lady  and  somewhat 
rheumatic,  and  as  we  had  not  a  carriage  I  hoped 
Mrs.  Gurrage  would  excuse  her  paying  her  re- 
spects in  person. 

"Rheumatic,  is  she?  Well,  I  have  the  very 
thing  for  the  j'ints.  My  still-room  maid  makes 
it  under  my  own  directions.  I'll  bring  some 
when  I  call.  Good-day  to  you,  me  dear/'  and 
they  bustled  on  into  the  arms  of  the  parson's 
family  and  other  people  who  were  waiting  to 
give  them  a  gushing  welcome  at  the  gate. 

Grandmamma  laughed  so  when  I  told  her 
about  them! 

Two  days  afterwards  Mrs.  Gurrage  and  Miss 
Hoad  (the  red-haired  girl  is  the  niece)  came  to 
call. 

Grandmamma  was  seated  as  usual  in  the 
old  Louis  XV.  berg&re,  which  is  one  of  our  house- 
hold gods.  It  does  not  go  with  the  other  furni- 
ture in  the  room,  which  is  a  "drawing-room 
suite"  of  black  and  gold,  upholstered  with  ma- 
genta, but  we  have  covered  that  up  as  well  as 
we  can  with  pieces  of  old  brocade  from  grand- 
mamma's stored  treasures. 

After  the  first  greetings  were  over  and  Mrs. 
Gurrage  had  seated  herself  in  the  other  arm- 
chair, her  knees  pointing  north  and  south,  she 
began  about  the  rheumatism  stuff  for  the  "  j'ints." 

18 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"I  can  see  by  yer  hands  ye're  a  great  suf- 
ferer/' she  said. 

"Alas!  madam,  one  of  the  penalties  of  old 
age/'  grandmamma  replied,  in  her  fine,  thin  voice. 

Then  Mrs.  Gurrage  explained  just  how  the 
mixture  was  to  be  rubbed  in,  and  all  about  it. 
During  this  I  had  been  trying  to  talk  to  Miss 
Hoad,  but  she  was  so  ill  at  ease  and  so  taken 
up  with  looking  round  the  room  that  we  soon 
lapsed  into  silence.  Presently  I  heard  Mrs. 
Gurrage  say — she  also  had  been  busy  examin- 
ing the  room: 

"Well,  you  have  been  good  tenants,  coverin' 
up  the  suite,  but  you've  no  call  to  do  it.  You 
wouldn't  be  likely  to  soil  it  much,  and  I  always 
say  when  you  let  a  house  furnished,  you  can't 
expect  it  to  continue  without  wear  and  tear; 
so  don't,  please,  bother  to  cover  it  with  those  old 
things.  Lor'  bless  me,  it  takes  me  back  to 
see  it!  It  was  my  first  suite  after  I  married 
Mr.  Gurrage,  and  we  had  a  pretty  place  on  Bal- 
ham  Hill.  We  put  it  here  because  Augustus 
did  not  want  anything  the  least  shabby  up  at 
The  Hall,  and  I  take  it  kind  of  you  to  have  cared 
for  it  so." 

Grandmamma's  face  never  changed;  not  the 
least  twinkle  came  into  her  eye — she  is  won- 
derful. I  could  hardly  keep  from  gurgling  with 
laughter  and  was  obliged  to  make  quite  an 
irritating  rattle  with  the  teaspoons.  Grand' 
mamma  frowned  at  that. 

19 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

By  the  end  of  the  visit  we  had  been  invited 
to  view  all  the  glories  of  The  Hall.  (The  place 
is  called  Ledstone  Park;  The  Hall,  apparently, 
is  Mrs.  Gurrage's  pet  name  for  the  house  itself.) 
We  would  not  find  anything  old  or  shabby  there, 
she  assured  us. 

When  they  had  gone  grandmamma  said  to 
me,  in  a  voice  that  always  causes  my  knees  to 
shake,  "Why  did  you  not  make  a  reverence  to 
Mrs.  Gurrage,  may  I  ask?" 

"Oh,  grandmamma/'  I  said,  "courtesy  to 
that  person!  She  would  not  have  understood 
in  the  least,  and  would  only  have  thought  it 
was  the  village  'bob'  to  a  superior." 

"My  child," — grandmamma's  voice  can  be 
terrible  in  its  fine  distinctness — "my  teaching 
has  been  of  little  avail  if  you  have  not  under- 
stood the  point,  that  one  has  not  good  manners 
for  the  effect  they  produce — but  for  what  is  due 
to  one's  self.  This  person — who,  I  admit,  should 
have  entered  by  the  back  door  and  stayed  in 
the  kitchen  with  Hephzibah  —  happened  to  be 
our  guest  and  is  a  woman  of  years — and  yet, 
because  she  displeased  your  senses  you  failed 
to  remember  that  you  yourself  are  a  gentle- 
woman. What  she  thought  or  thinks  is  of  not 
the  smallest  importance  in  the  world,  but  let  me 
ask  you  in  future  to  remember,  at  least,  that  you 
are  my  granddaughter." 

A  big  lump  came  in  my  throat. 

I  hate  the  Gurrages! 
20 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

The  next  day  one  of  the  old  maids — a  Miss 
Burton — arrived  just  as  we  were  having  tea. 
She  was  full  of  excitement  at  the  return  of  the 
owners  of  Ledstone,  and  gave  us  a  quantity 
of  information  about  them  in  spite  of  grand- 
mamma's aloofness  from  all  gossip.  It  appears, 
even  in  the  country  in  England,  Mrs.  Gurrage 
is  considered  quite  an  oddity,  but  every  one 
knows  and  accepts  her,  because  she  is  so  chari- 
table and  gives  hundreds  to  any  scheme  the 
great  ladies  start. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  a  small  publican 
in  one  of  the  southern  counties,  Miss  Burton 
said,  and  married  Mr.  Gurrage,  then  a  commer- 
cial traveller  in  carpets.  (How  does  one  travel 
in  carpets?)  Anyway,  whatever  that  is,  he  rose 
and  became  a  partner,  and  finally  amassed  a 
huge  fortune,  and  when  they  were  both  quite 
old  they  got  "Augustus."  He  was  "a  puny, 
delicate  boy,"  to  quote  Miss  Burton  again,  and 
was  not  sent  to  school — only  to  Cambridge  later 
on.  Perhaps  that  is  what  gives  him  that  look 
of  his  things  fitting  wrong,  and  his  skin  being 
puffy  and  flabby,  as  if  he  had  never  been  knock- 
ed about  by  other  boys.  My  friend  of  the  knife, 
even  with  his  coating  of  mud,  looked  quite  dif- 
ferent. 

Oh!  I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  know  any  peo- 
ple of  one's  own  sort  that  one  has  not  to  be 
polite  to  against  the  grain  because  one  hap- 
pens to  be  one's  self  a  lady.  Perhaps  there  are 

21 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

numbers  of  nice  people  in  this  neighborhood, 
but  they  naturally  don't  trouble  about  us  in 
our  tiny  cottage,  and  so  we  see  practically  no- 
body. 

Just  as  Miss  Burton  was  leaving  Mr.  Gurrage 
rode  up.  He  tried  to  open  the  gate  with  the 
end  of  his  whip,  but  he  could  not,  and  would 
have  had  to  dismount  only  Miss  Burton  rushed 
forward  to  open  it  for  him.  Then  he  got  down 
and  held  the  bridle  over  his  arm  and  walked  up 
the  little  path. 

"Send  some  one  to  hold  my  horse,"  he  said 
to  Hephzibah,  who  answered  his  ring  at  the 
door.  I  could  hear,  as  the  window  was  a  little 
open  and  he  has  a  loud  voice. 

"There  is  no  one  to  send,  sir/'  said  Hephzi- 
bah, who,  I  am  sure,  felt  annoyed.  Two  laborers 
happened  to  be  passing  in  the  road,  and  he  got 
one  of  them  to  hold  his  horse,  and  so  came  in 
at  last.  He  is  unattractive  when  you  see  him 
in  a  room;  he  seemed  blustering  and  yet  ill  at 
ease.  But  he  did  not  thank  us  for  keeping 
the  suite  clean!  He  was  awfully  friendly,  and 
asked  us  to  make  use  of  his  garden,  and,  in 
fact,  anything  we  wanted.  I  hardly  spoke  at 
all. 

"You  have  made  a  snug  little  crib  of  it,"  he 
said,  in  such  a  patronizing  voice — how  I  dislike 
sentences  like  that;  I  don't  know  whether  or 
no  they  are  slang  (grandmamma  says  I  use 
slang  myself  sometimes!),  but  "a  snug  little 

22 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

crib  "  does  not  please  me.  He  took  off  his  glove 
when  I  gave  him  some  tea,  and  he  has  thick, 
common  hands,  and  he  fidgeted  and  bounced 
up  if  I  moved  to  take  grandmamma  her  cup, 
and  said  each  time,  " Allow  me,"  and  that  is 
another  sentence  I  do  not  like.  In  fact,  I  think 
he  is  a  horrid  young  man,  and  I  wish  he  was 
not  our  landlord.  He  actually  squeezed  my 
hand  when  he  said  good-bye.  I  had  no  intention 
of  doing  more  than  to  make  a  bow,  but  he  thrust 
his  hand  out  so  that  I  could  not  help  it. 

'•'  You'll  find  your  way  up  to  Ledstone,  any- 
way, won't  you?"  he  said,  with  a  sort  of  affec- 
tionate look. 

Grandmamma  found  him  insupportable,  she 
told  me  when  he  was  gone.  She  even  preferred 
the  mother. 

The  following  week  I  was  sent  up  to  The 
Hall  with  Roy  and  grandmamma's  card  to  re- 
turn the  visit.  They  were  at  home,  unfortu- 
nately, and  I  had  to  leave  my  dear  companion 
lying  on  the  steps  to  wait  for  me.  Such  a  fear- 
ful house!  An  enormous  stained-glass  window 
in  the  hall,  the  shape  of  a  church  window,  only 
not  with  saints  and  angels  in  it;  more  like  the 
pattern  of  a  kaleidoscope  that  one  peeps  into 
with  one  eye,  and  then  bunches  of  roses  and 
silly  daisies  in  some  of  the  panes,  which,  I  am 
sure,  are  unsuitable  to  a  stained-glass  window. 
There  were  ugly  negro  figures  from  Venice, 
holding  plates,  in  the  passage,  and  stuffed  bears 

23 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

for  lamps,  and  such  a  look  of  newness  about 
everything!  I  was  taken  along  to  Mrs.  Gur- 
rage's  "bud war/'  as  she  called  it.  That  was 
a  room  to  remember!  It  had  a  "suite"  in  it 
like  the  one  at  the  cottage,  only  with  Louis  XV. 
legs  and  Louis  XVI.  backs,  and  a  general  ex- 
pression of  distortion,  and  all  of  the  newest  gilt- 
and-crimson  satin  brocade.  And  under  a  glass 
case  in  the  corner  was  the  top  of  a  wedding-cake 
and  a  bunch  of  orange  blossoms. 

I  was  kept  waiting  about  ten  minutes,  and 
then  Mrs.  Gurrage  bustled  in,  fastening  her 
cuff.  I  can't  put  down  all  she  said,  but  it  was 
one  continual  praise  of  "  Gussie  "  and  his  wealth 
and  the  jewels  he  had  given  her,  and  how  dis- 
appointed he  would  be  not  to  see  me.  Miss 
Hoad  poured  out  the  tea  and  giggled  twice.  I 
think  she  must  be  what  Hephzibah  calls  "  want- 
ing." At  last  I  got  away.  Roy  barked  with 
pleasure  as  we  started  homeward. 

We  had  not  gone  a  hundred  yards  before  we 
met  Mr.  Gurrage  coming  up  the  drive.  He 
insisted  upon  turning  back  and  walking  with 
me.  He  said  it  was  "beastly  hard  luck"— he 
has  horrid  phrases — his  being  out  when  I  came, 
and  would  I  please  not  to  walk  so  fast,  as  we 
should  so  soon  arrive  at  the  cottage,  and  he 
wanted  to  talk  to  me.  I  simply  pranced  on 
after  that.  I  do  not  know  why  people  should 
want  to  talk  to  one  when  one  does  not  want  to 
talk  to  them.  I  was  not  agreeable,  but  he  did 

24 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

all  the  speaking.  He  told  me  he  belonged  to 
the  Yeomanry  and  they  were  "jolly  fellows" 
and  were  going  to  give  a  ball  soon  at  Tilchester 
— the  county  town  nearest  here  —  and  that  I 
must  let  his  mother  take  me  to  it.  It  was '  to 
be  a  send-off  to  the  detachment  which  had  volun- 
teered for  South  Africa. 

A  ball!  Oh!  I  should  like  to  go  to  a  ball. 
What  could  it  feel  like,  I  wonder,  to  have  on  a 
white  tulle  dress  and  to  dance  all  the  evening. 
Would  grandmamma  ever  let  me?  Oh!  it  made 
my  heart  beat.  But  suddenly  a  cold  dash  came 
— I  could  not  go  with  a  person  like  Mrs.  Gurrage. 
I  would  rather  stay  at  home  than  that.  When 
we  got  to  the  gate  I  said  good-bye  and  gave 
him  two  fingers,  but  he  was  not  the  least  daunt- 
ed, and,  seizing  all  my  hand,  said : 

"  Now,  don't  send  me  away ;  I  want  to  come  in 
and  see  your  grandmother." 

There  was  nothing  left  for  me  to  do,  and  he 
followed  me  into  the  house  and  into  the  drawing- 
room. 

Grandmamma  was  sitting  as  usual  in  her 
chair.  She  does  not  have  to  fluster  in,  buttoning 
her  cuff,  when  people  call. 

"Mr.  Gurrage  wishes  to  see  you,  grand- 
mamma," I  said,  as  I  kissed  her  hand,  and  then 
I  left  them  to  take  off  my  hat  and  I  did  not  come 
down  again  until  I  heard  the  front  door  shut. 

"That  is  a  terrible  young  man,  Ambrosine/' 
grandmamma  said,  when  I  did  return  to  the 

25 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

drawing-room.  "  How  could  you  encourage  him 
to  walk  back  with  you?" 

"  Indeed,  grandmamma,  I  did  not  wish  him  to 
come;  he  did  not  even  ask  my  leave;  he  just 
walked  beside  me/' 

"Well,  well/'  grandmamma  said,  and  she 
raised  my  face  in  her  hands.  I  was  sitting 
on  a  low  stool  so  as  to  get  the  last  of  the  light 
for  my  embroidery.  She  pushed  the  hair  back 
from  my  forehead — I  wear  it  brushed  up  like 
Ambrosine  Eustasie  de  Calincourt  —  and  she 
looked  and  looked  into  my  eyes.  If  possible 
there  was  something  pained  and  wistful  in  her 
face.  "My  beautiful  Ambrosine,"  she  said,  and 
that  was  all.  I  felt  I  was  blushing  all  over 
my  cheeks.  "Beautiful  Ambrosine."  Then  it 
must  be  true  if  grandmamma  said  it.  I  had 
often  thought  so — perhaps — myself,  but  I  was 
not  sure  if  other  people  might  think  so  too. 

It  is  six  weeks  now  since  the  Gurrages  re- 
turned, and  constantly,  oh!  but  constantly  has 
that  young  man  come  across  my  path.  I  think 
I  grow  to  dislike  him  more  as  time  goes  on.  He 
is  so  persistent  and  thick  of  ideas,  and  he  always 
does  things  in  the  wrong  place.  I  feel  afraid 
to  go  for  my  walks,  as  he  seems  to  be  loitering 
about.  I  sneak  out  of  the  back  door  and  choose 
the  most  secluded  lanes,  but  it  does  not  matter; 
he  somehow  turns  up.  Certainly  three  times 
a  week  do  I  have  to  put  up  with  his  company 

26 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

in  one  way  or  another.  It  is  a  perfect  insult  to 
think  of  such  a  person  as  an  admirer,  and  I  an- 
nihilated Hephzibah,  who  had  the  impertinence 
to  suggest  such  a  thing  to  me  when  she  was 
brushing  my  hair  a  few  days  ago.  The  ball 
is  coming  off,  but  grandmamma  has  not  seemed 
very  well  lately.  It  is  nothing  much,  just  a 
bluish  look  round  her  mouth,  but  I  fear  perhaps 
she  will  not  be  fit  to  go.  When  the  invitation 
came — brought  down  by  Mrs.  Gurrage  in  per- 
son— grandmamma  said  she  never  allowed  me 
to  go  out  without  herself,  but  she  would  be  very 
pleased  to  take  me.  I  was  perfectly  thunder- 
struck when  I  heard  her  say  it.  She — grand- 
mamma— going  out  at  night!  It  was  so  good 
of  her,  and  when  I  thanked  her  afterwards, 
all  she  said  was,  "I  seldom  do  things  without 
a  reason,  Ambrosine." 

Oh,  the  delight  in  getting  my  dress!  We 
hired  the  fly  from  the  Crown  and  Sceptre  and 
Hephzibah  drove  with  me  into  Tilchester  with 
a  list  of  things  to  get,  written  out  by  grand- 
mamma— these  were  only  the  small  etceteras; 
the  dress  itself  is  to  come  from  Paris!  I  was 
frightened  almost  at  the  dreadful  expense,  but 
grandmamma  would  hear  nothing  from  me. 
"My  granddaughter  does  not  go  to  her  first 
ball  arrayed  like  a  provinciate/'  she  told  me. 
I  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  be,  she  did  not  con- 
sult me,  but  I  feel  all  jumping  with  excitement 
when  I  think  of  it.  Only  four  days  more  before 

27 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

the  ball,  and  the  box  from  Paris  is  coming  to- 
morrow. 

The  Gurrages  are  to  have  a  large  party— some 
cousins  and  friends.  I  am  sure  they  will  not  be 
interesting.  They  asked  us  to  dine  and  go  on 
with  them,  but  grandmamma  said  that  would  be 
too  fatiguing  for  her,  and  we  are  going  straight 
from  the  cottage.  I  do  not  quite  know  what 
has  happened.  A  few  days  ago,  after  lunch, 
grandmamma  had  a  kind  of  fainting  fit.  It 
frightened  me  terribly,  and  the  under-servant 
ran  for  the  doctor.  She  had  revived  when  he 
came,  and  she  sent  me  out  of  the  room  at  once, 
and  saw  him  alone  without  even  Hephzibah. 
He  stayed  a  very  long  time,  and  when  he  came 
down  he  looked  at  me  strangely  and  said: 

"Your  grandmother  is  all  right  now  and  you 
can  go  to  her.  I  think  she  wishes  to  send  a 
telegram,  which  I  will  take/' 

He  then  asked  to  see  Hephzibah,  and  I  ran 
quickly  to  grandmamma.  She  was  sitting  per- 
fectly upright  as  usual,  and,  except  for  the  slight 
bluish  look  round  her  mouth,  seemed  quite 
herself.  She  made  me  get  her  the  foreign  tele- 
gram forms,  and  wrote  a  long  telegram,  think- 
ing between  the  words,  but  never  altering  one. 
She  folded  it  and  told  me  to  get  some  money 
from  Hephzibah  and  take  it  to  the  doctor.  Her 
eyes  looked  prouder  than  ever,  but  her  hand 
shook  a  little.  A  vague  feeling  of  fear  came 
over  me  which  has  never  left  me  since.  Even 

28 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

when  I  am  excited  thinking  of  my  dress,  I  seem 
to  feel  some  shadow  in  the  background. 

Yesterday  grandmamma  received  a  telegram 
and  told  me  we  might  expect  the  Marquis  de 
Rochermont  by  the  usual  train  in  the  evening, 
and  at  six  he  arrived.  He  greeted  me  with 
even  extra  courtesy  and  made  me  compliment. 
I  cannot  understand  it  all — he  has  never  before 
come  so  early  in  the  year  (this  is  May).  What 
can  it  mean?  Grandmamma  sent  me  out  of 
the  room  directly,  and  we  did  not  have  dinner 
until  eight  o'clock.  I  could  hear  their  voices 
from  my  room,  and  they  seemed  talking  very 
earnestly,  and  not  so  gayly  as  usual. 

At  dinner  the  Marquis,  for  the  first  time,  ad- 
dressed his  conversation  to  me.  He  prefers  to 
speak  in  English — to  show  what  a  linguist  he 
is,  I  suppose.  He  made  me  many  compliments, 
and  said  how  very  like  I  was  growing  to  my 
ancestress,  Ambrosine  Eustasie  de  Calincourt, 
and  he  told  me  again  the  old  story  of  the  guillo- 
tine. Grandmamma  seemed  watching  me. 

"Ambrosine  is  a  true  daughter  of  the  race/' 
she  said.  "I  think  I  could  promise  you  that 
under  the  same  circumstances  she  would  behave 
in  the  same  manner." 

How  proud  I  felt! 


Ill 

How  changed  all  the  world  can  become  in  one 
short  day !  Now  I  know  why  the  Marquis  came, 
and  what  all  the  mystery  was  about.  This 
morning  after  breakfast  grandmamma  sent  for 
me  into  the  drawing-room.  The  Marquis  was 
standing  beside  the  fireplace,  and  they  both 
looked  rather  grave. 

"Sit  down,  my  child/'  said  grandmamma; 
"we  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

I  sat  down. 

"I  said  you  were  a  true  daughter  of  the  race 
— therefore  I  shall  expect  you  to  obey  me  with- 
out flinching." 

I  felt  a  cold  shiver  down  my  back.  What  could 
it  be? 

"  You  are  aware  that  I  had  a  fainting  fit  a  short 
time  ago/'  she  continued.  "I  have  long  known 
that  my  heart  was  affected,  but  I  had  hoped  it 
would  have  lasted  long  enough  for  me  to  fulfil 
a  scheme  I  had  for  a  thoroughly  suitable  and 
happy  arrangement  of  your  destiny.  It  was  a 
plan  that  would  have  taken  time,  and  which 
I  had  hoped  to  put  in  the  way  of  gradual  ac- 
complishment at  this  ball.  However,  we  must 

30 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

not  grumble  at  fate — it  is  not  to  be.  The  doctor 
tells  me  I  cannot  possibly  live  more  than  a  few 
weeks,  therefore  it  follows  that  something  must 
be  settled  immediately  to  secure  you  a  future. 
You  are  not  aware,  as  I  have  not  considered 
it  necessary  to  inform  you  hitherto  of  my  affairs, 
that  all  we  are  living  on  is  an  annuity  your 
father  bought  for  me,  before  the  catastrophe 
to  his  fortunes.  That,  you  will  understand, 
ceases  with  my  life.  At  my  death  you  will 
be  absolutely  penniless,  a  beggar  in  the  street. 
Even  were  you  to  sell  these  trifles" — and  she 
pointed  to  the  Sevres  cups  and  the  miniatures 
— "the  few  pounds  they  would  bring  might 
keep  you  from  starving  for  perhaps  a  month 
or  two — after  that — well,  enough — that  ques- 
tion is  impossible.  I  can  obtain  no  news  of 
your  father.  I  have  heard  nothing  from  or  of 
him  for  two  years.  He  may  be  dead — we  can- 
not count  on  him.  In  short,  I  have  decided, 
after  due  consideration  and  consultation  with 
my  old  friend  the  Marquis,  that  you  must 
marry  Augustus  Gurrage.  It  is  my  dying 
wish." 

My  eyes  fell  from  grandmamma's  face  and 
happened  to  light  on  the  picture  of  Ambrosine 
Eustasie  de  Calincourt.  There  she  was,  with  the 
rose  in  her  dress,  smiling  at  me  out  of  the  old 
paste  frame.  I  was  so  stunned,  all  I  could  think 
of  was  to  wonder  if  it  was  the  same  rose  she 
walked  up  the  guillotine  steps  with.  I  did  not 

31 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

hear  grandmamma  speaking ;  for  a  minute  there 
was  a  buzzing  in  my  ears. 

Marry  Augustus  Gurrage! 

"  My  child  " — grandmamma's  voice  was  rather 
sharper — "I  am  aware  that  it  is  a  mesalliance, 
a  stain,  a  finish  to  our  fine  race,  and  if  I  could 
take  you  on  the  journey  I  am  going  I  would  not 
suggest  this  alternative  to  you;  but  one  must 
have  common-sense  and  be  practical;  and  as 
you  are  young  and  must  live,  and  cannot  beg, 
this  is  the  only  certain  and  possible  solution 
of  the  matter.  The  great  honor  you  will  do 
him  by  marrying  him  removes  all  sense  of  obli- 
gation in  receiving  the  riches  he  will  bestow  on 
you — you  yourself  being  without  a  dot.  Child 
— why  don't  you  answer?" 

I  got  up  and  walked  to  the  window.  She  had 
said  I  was  a  true  daughter  of  the  race.  Would 
it  be  of  the  race  to  kill  myself?  No— there  is 
nothing  so  vulgar  as  to  be  dramatic.  Grand- 
mamma has  never  erred.  She  would  not  ask 
this  of  me  if  there  was  any  other  way. 

I  came  back  and  sat  down. 

"Very  well,  grandmamma/'  I  said. 

The  blue  mark  round  her  lips  seemed  to  fade 
a  little  and  she  smiled. 

The  Marquis  came  forward  and  kissed  my 
hand. 

"Remember — ch&re  enfant,"  he  said,  "mar- 
riage is  a  state  required  by  society.  It  is  not  a 
pleasure,  but  it  can  —  with  creature  comforts 

32 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

— become  supportable,  and  it  opens  the  door 
to  freedom  et  de  tons  les  autres  agrGments  de  la 
vie  pour  une  femme." 

He  kissed  and  patted  my  hand  again. 

"Start  with  hate,  passionate  love,  indiffer- 
ence, revolt,  disgust — what  you  will — all  hus- 
bands at  the  end  of  a  year  inspire  the  same 
feeling,  one  of  complacent  monotony — that  is, 
if  they  are  not  altogether  brutes — and  from  the 
description  of  madame,  ce  jeune  Gurrage  is  at 
least  un  brave  gargon." 

I  am  of  a  practical  nature,  and  a  thought 
struck  me  forcibly.  When  could  Mr.  Gurrage 
have  made  the  demande? 

"How  did  Mr.  Gurrage  ask  for  my  hand?"  I 
ventured  to  question  grandmamma. 

She  looked  at  the  Marquis,  and  the  Marquis 
looked  back  at  her,  and  polished  his  eye-glasses. 

At  last  grandmamma  spoke. 

"  That  is  not  the  custom  here,  Ambrosine,  but 
from  what  I  have  observed  he  will  take  the  first 
opportunity  of  asking  you  himself/' 

Here  was  something  unpleasant  to  look  for- 
ward to!  It  would  be  bad  enough  to  have  to 
go  through  the  usual  period  of  formal  fiangailles 
of  the  sort  I  have  always  been  brought  up  to 
expect — but  to  endure  being  made  love  to  by 
Augustus  Gurrage!  That  was  enough  to  daunt 
the  stoutest  heart.  However,  having  agreed  to 
obey  grandmamma,  I  could  not  argue.  I  only 
waited  for  directions.  There  was  a  pause,  not 
3  33 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

agreeable  to  any  of  us,  and  then  grandmamma 
spoke. 

"  You  will  go  to  this  ball,  my  child.  You  will 
look  beautiful,  and  you  will  dance  with  this 
young  man.  You  will  not  be  so  stiff  as  you  have 
hitherto  been,  and  during  the  evening  he  is  sure 
to  propose  to  you.  You  will  then  accept  him, 
and  bear  his  outburst  of  affection  with  what 
good  grace  you  can  summon  up.  I  will  save 
you  from  as  much  as  I  can,  and  I  promise  you 
your  engagement  shall  be  short/' 

A  sudden  feeling  of  dizziness  came  over  me. 
I  have  never  been  faint  in  my  life,  but  all  the 
room  swam,  and  I  felt  I  must  scream,  "No,  no! 
I  cannot  do  it!"  Then  my  eyes  fell  again  on 
grandmamma.  The  blue  mark  had  returned, 
but  she  sat  bolt  upright.  My  nerves  steadied. 
I,  too,  would  be  calm  and  of  my  race. 

"  Go  for  a  walk  now,  my  child/'  she  said.  "  Take 
your  dog  and  run;  it  will  be  good  for  you/' 

You  may  believe  I  courtesied  quickly  to  them 
and  left  the  room  without  more  ado. 

When  I  got  out-of-doors  and  the  fresh  May 
air  struck  my  face  it  seemed  to  revive  me,  and 
I  forgot  my  ugly  future  and  could  think 
only  of  grandmamma — poor  grandmamma,  go- 
ing away  out  of  the  world,  and  the  summer  com- 
ing, and  the  blue  sky,  and  the  flowers.  Going 
away  to  the  great,  vast  beyond — and  perhaps 
there  she  will  meet  Ambrosine  Eustasie  de  Calin- 
court,  and  all  the  other  ancestors,  and  Jacques 

34 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

de  Calincourt,  the  famous  friend  of  Bayard, 
who  died  for  his  lady's  glove;  and  she  will  tell 
them  that  I  also,  the  last  of  them,  will  try  to  re- 
member their  motto,  "  Sans  bruit"  and  accept 
my  fate  also  "without  noise." 

When  I  got  back,  my  ball-dress  had  arrived. 
Hephzibah  had  unpacked  it,  and  it  was  lying 
on  my  bed — such  billows  of  pure  white! — and  it 
fitted!  Well,  it  gave  me  pleasure,  with  all  the 
uglies  looming  in  the  future,  just  to  try  it  on. 

The  Marquis  stayed  with  us.  He  could  not 
desert  his  old  friend,  he  said,  in  her  frail  health, 
when  she  needed  some  one  to  cheer  her.  I  sus- 
pect the  Marquis  is  as  poor  as  we  are,  really,  and 
that  is  why  grandmamma  could  not  leave  me 
to  him.  I  am  glad  he  is  staying,  and  now  she 
seems  quite  her  old  self  again,  and  I  cannot 
believe  she  is  going  to  die.  However,  whether 
or  no,  my  destiny  is  fixed,  and  I  shall  have  to 
marry  Augustus  Gurrage. 

I  did  not  let  myself  think  of  what  was  to  hap- 
pen at  the  ball.  When  one  has  made  up  one's 
mind  to  go  through  something  unpleasant,  there 
is  no  use  suffering  in  advance  by  anticipation. 
I  said  to  myself,  "I  will  put  the  whole  affair  out 
of  my  head;  there  are  yet  two  good  days/' 

Chance,  however,  arranged  otherwise.  This 
morning,  the  morning  of  the  ball,  while  I  was 
dusting  the  drawing-room,  I  went  to  the  window, 
which  was  wide  open,  to  shake  out  my  duster, 
and  there,  loitering  by  the  gate,  was  Mr.  Gurrage 

35 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

— at  nine  o'clock!  What  could  he  be  doing?  He 
jumped  back  as  if  he  had  seen  me  in  my  night- 
gown. I  suppose  it  was  because  of  my  apron, 
and  the  big  cambric  cap  I  always  wear  to  keep 
the  dust  from  getting  into  my  hair.  A  flash 
came  to  me — why  not  get  it  over  now?  He  would 
probably  not  be  so  affectionate  in  broad  day- 
light as  at  the  ball.  So  I  called  out,  "Good- 
morning!" 

He  came  forward  up  the  path  and  leaned  on 
the  window-sill,  still  looking  dreadfully  un- 
comfortable, hardly  daring  to  glance  at  me. 
Then  he  said,  nervously,  "What  are  you  play- 
ing with,  dressed  up  like  that?" 

"I  am  not  playing,"  I  said.  "I  am  dusting 
the  china,  and  I  wear  these  things  to  keep  me 
clean." 

He  blushed! 

Then  I  realized  all  this  embarrassment  was 
because  he  thought  I  should  feel  uncomforta- 
ble at  being  caught  doing  house-work!  Not,  as 
one  might  have  imagined,  because  he  had  been 
caught  peeping  into  our  garden.  Oh,  the  odd 
ideas  of  the  lower  classes! 

I  took  up  a  Sevres  cup  and  began  to  pull  the 
silk  duster  gently  through  the  handle. 

"Er — can  I  help  you?"  he  said. 

At  that  I  burst  out  laughing.  Those  thick, 
common  hands  touching  grandmamma's  best 
china ! 

"No,  no!"  I  said. 

36 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

He  grew  less  self-conscious. 

"By  Jove!  how  pretty  you  are  in  that  cap!" 

"Am  I?" 

"Yes,  and  you  are  laughing,  and  not  snub- 
bing a  fellow  so  dreadfully  as  you  generally  do/' 

"No?" 

"No — well,  I  came  round  because  I  couldn't 
sleep.  I  haven't  been  able  to  sleep  for  three 
nights.  I  haven't  seen  you  since  Saturday,  you 
know." 

"No,  I  did  not  know." 

My  heart  began  to  beat  in  a  sickening  fashion. 
He  leaned  close  to  me  over  the  sill.  I  put  down 
the  cup  and  took  up  the  miniature.  I  thought 
if  I  looked  at  Ambrosine  Eustasie  that  would 
give  me  courage.  I  went  on  dusting  it,  and  I 
was  glad  to  see  my  hands  did  not  shake. 

"Yes,  you  are  so  devilishly  tantalizing  —  I 
beg  your  pardon,  but  you  don't  chuck  yourself 
at  a  fellow's  head  like  the  other  girls." 

I  felt  I  was  "chucking  myself  at  his  head" 
— horrible  phrase— at  that  very  moment,  but 
as  speech  is  given  us  to  conceal  our  thoughts, 
I  said,  "No,  indeed!" 

"Ambrosine — "  (Oh,  how  his  saying  my 
name  jarred  and  made  me  creep!)  "Er — you 
know  I  am  jolly  fond  of  you.  If  you'll  marry 
me  you'll  not  have  to  dust  any  more  beastly  old 
china,  I  promise  you." 

I  have  never  had  a  tooth  out  —  fortunately, 
mine  are  all  very  white  and  sound— but  I  have 

37 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

always  heard  the  agony  goes  on  growing  until 
the  final  wrench,  and  then  all  is  over.  I  feel 
I  know  now  what  the  sensation  is.  I  could  have 
screamed,  but  when  he  finished  speaking  I  felt 
numb.  I  was  incapable  of  answering. 

"  I've  generally  been  able  to  buy  all  I've  want- 
ed," he  went  on,  "but  I  never  wanted  a  wife 
before."  He  laughed  nervously.  That  was  a 
straw  for  me. 

"  Do  you  want  to  buy  me?"  I  said.  "  Because, 
if  it  is  only  a  question  of  that,  it  perhaps  could 
be  managed." 

"Oh,  I  say — I  never  meant  that!"  he  blustered. 
"  Oh,  you  know  I  love  you  like  anything,  and  I 
want  you  to  love  me." 

"That  is  just  it,"  I  said,  quite  low. 

I  felt  too  mean.  I  could  not  pretend  I  loved  him. 
I  must  tell  him  the  truth,  and  then,  if  he  would 
not  have  me  —  me  —  Ambrosine  de  Calincourt 
Athelstan ! — why,  then,  vulgarly  dramatic  or  no, 
I  should  have  to  jump  into  the  river  to  make 
things  easy  for  grandmamma. 

"What  is  'just  it'?"  he  asked. 

"I  do  not  love  you." 

His  face  fell. 

"  I  kind  of  thought  you  didn't,"  he  faltered,  the 
bluster  gone;  "but" — cheering  up — "of  course 
you  will  in  time,  if  you  will  only  marry  me." 

"I  don't  think  I  ever  shall,"  I  managed  to 
whisper;  "but  if  you  like  to  marry  me  on  that 
clear  understanding,  you  may." 

38 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

He  climbed  through  the  window  and  put  his 
arms  round  me. 

"Darling!"  he  said,  and  kissed  me  deliber- 
ately. 

Oh,  the  horror  of  it!  I  shut  my  eyes,  and  in 
the  emotion  of  the  moment  I  bent  the  bow  on  the 
top  of  the  frame  of  Ambrosine  Eustasie. 

Then,  dragging  myself  from  his  embrace  and 
stuttering  with  rage,  "How  dare  you!"  I  gasped. 
"How  dare  you!" 

He  looked  sulky  and  offended. 

"You  said  you  would  marry  me — what  is  a 
fellow  to  understand?" 

"You  are  to  understand  that  I  will  not  be 
mauled  and — and  kissed  like — like  Hephzibah 
at  the  back  door,"  I  said,  with  freezing  dignity, 
my  head  in  the  air. 

"Hoity-toity!"  (hideous  expression!)  "What 
airs  you  give  yourself !  But  you  look  so  deuced 
pretty  when  you  are  angry!"  I  did  not  melt, 
but  stood  on  the  defensive. 

He  became  supplicating  again. 

"Ambrosine,  I  love  you — don't  be  cross  with 
me.  I  won't  make  you  angry  again  until  you 
are  used  to  me.  Ambrosine,  say  you  forgive 
me."  He  took  my  hand.  His  hands  are  horrid 
to  touch  —  coarse  and  damp.  I  shuddered  in- 
voluntarily. 

He  looked  pained  at  that.  A  dark-red  flush 
came  over  all  his  face.  He  squared  his  shoulders 
and  got  over  the  window-sill  again. 

39 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"You  cold  statue!"  he  said,  spitefully.  "I 
will  leave  you/' 

"Go/'  was  all  I  said,  and  I  did  not  move  an 
inch. 

He  stood  looking  at  me  for  a  few  moments, 
then  with  one  bound  he  was  in  the  room  again 
and  had  seized  me  in  his  arms. 

"No,  I  sha'n't!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  have 
promised,  and  I  don't  care  what  you  say  or  do. 
I  will  keep  you  to  your  word/' 

Mercifully,  at  that  moment  Hephzibah  opened 
the  door,  and  in  the  confusion  her  entrance  caused 
him,  he  let  me  go.  I  simply  flew  from  the  room 
and  up  to  my  own;  and  there,  I  am  ashamed  to 
say,  I  cried — sat  on  the  floor  and  cried  like  a 
gutter-child.  Oh,  if  grandmamma  could  have 
seen  me,  how  angry  she  would  have  been!  I 
have  never  been  allowed  to  cry — a  relaxation  for 
the  lower  classes,  she  has  always  told  me. 

My  face  burned.  All  the  bottles  of  Lubin  in 
grandmamma's  cupboard  would  not  wash  off 
the  stain  of  that  kiss,  I  felt.  '  I  scrubbed  my  face 
until  it  was  crimson,  and  then  I  heard  grand- 
mamma's voice  and  had  to  pull  myself  to- 
gether. 

I  have  always  said  she  had  hawk's  eyes ;  they 
see  everything,  even  with  the  blinds  down  in 
her  room.  When  I  went  in  she  noticed  my  red 
lids  and  asked  the  cause  of  them. 

"Mr.  Gurrage  has  been  here  and  has  asked 
me  to  marry  him,  grandmamma/'  I  said. 

40 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"At  this  hour  in  the  morning!  What  does 
the  young  man  mean?" 

"  He  saw  me  dusting  the  Sevres  from  the  road 
and  came  in." 

Grandmamma  kissed  me  —  a  thing  of  the 
greatest  rareness. 

"My  child,"  she  said,  "try  and  remember  to 
accept  fate  without  noise.  Now  go  and  rest  un- 
til breakfast,  or  you  will  not  be  pretty  for  your 
ball  to-night." 

The  Marquis's  congratulations  were  different 
when  we  met  in  the  salle  a  manger ;  he  kissed  my 
hand.  How  cool  and  fine  his  old,  withered  fin- 
gers felt! 

"You  will  be  the  most  beautiful  debutante  to- 
night, ma  chere  enfant,"  he  said;  "and  all  the 
felicitations  are  for  Monsieur  Gurrage.  You  are 
a  noble  girl — but  such  is  life.  My  wife  detested 
me — dans  le  temps.  But  what  will  you?" 

"You,  at  least,  were  a  gentleman,  Marquis," 
I  said. 

" There  is  that,  to  be  sure,"  he  allowed.  " But 
my  wife  preferred  her  dancing-master.  One  can 
never  judge. " 

At  half-past  two  o'clock  (they  must  have  gob- 
bled their  lunch),  Mrs.  Gurrage,  Augustus — yes, 
I  must  get  accustomed  to  saying  that  odious 
name — Augustus  and  Miss  Hoad  drove  up  in 
the  barouche,  and  got  solemnly  out  and  came 
up  to  the  door  which  Hephzibah  held  open  for 
them.  They  solemnly  entered  the  sitting-room 

41 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

where  we  all  were,  and  solemnly  shook  hands. 
There  is  something  dreadfully  ill-behaved  about 
me  to-day.  I  could  hardly  prevent  myself  from 
screaming  with  laughter. 

"I've  heard  the  joyous  news/'  Mrs.  Gurrage 
said,  "and  I've  come  to  take  you  to  me  heart, 
me  dear." 

Upon  which  I  was  folded  fondly  against  a 
mosaic  brooch  containing  a  lock  of  hair  of  the 
late  Mr.  Gurrage. 

It  says  a  great  deal  for  the  unassailable  dignity 
of  grandmamma  that  she  did  not  share  the  same 
fate.  She,  however,  escaped  with  only  numer- 
ous hand-shakings. 

"He  is,  indeed,  to  be  congratulated,  votre  fits, 
madame,"  the  Marquis  said,  on  being  presented. 

"And  the  young  lady,  too,  me  dear  sir.  A 
better  husband  than  me  boy  11  make  there  is 
not  in  England — though  his  old  mother  says  it." 

Grandmamma  behaved  with  the  stiff est  deco- 
rum. She  suggested  that  we — the  young  girls 
— should  walk  in  the  garden,  while  she  had  some 
conversation  with  Mrs.  Gurrage  and  Augustus. 

Miss  Hoad  and  I  left  the  room.  Her  name  is 
Amelia.  She  looked  like  a  turkey's  egg,  just 
that  yellowish  white  with  freckles. 

"I  hope  you  will  be  good  to  Gussie,"  she  said, 
as  we  walked  demurely  along  the  path.  "He  is 
a  dear  fellow  when  you  know  him,  though  a  bit 
masterful." 

I  bowed. 

42 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"Gussie's  awfully  spoony  on  you/'  she  went 
on.  "I  said  to  aunt  weeks  ago  I  knew  what 
was  up/'  she  giggled. 

I  bowed  again. 

"  I  say,  he'll  give  you  a  bouquet  for  the  ball 
to-night;  we  are  going  into  Tilchester  now  to 
fetch  it." 

I  could  not  bow  a  third  time,  so  I  said: 

"  Is  not  a  bouquet  rather  in  the  way  of  dancing? 
I  have  never  been  to  a  ball  yet." 

"Never  been  to  a  ball?  My!  Well  I've  never 
had  a  bouquet,  so  I  can't  say.  If  you  have  any 
one  sweet  on  you  I  suppose  they  send  them,  but 
I  have  always  been  too  busy  with  aunt  to  think 
about  that." 

Poor  Miss  Hoad! 

When  they  had  gone  —  I  kept  behind  grand- 
mamma's chair,  and  so  only  received  a  squeeze 
of  the  hand  from  my  betrothed — grandmamma 
told  me  she  would  be  obliged  to  forego  the  pleasure 
of  herself  taking  me  to  the  ball  to-night,  but  the 
Marquis  would  accompany  me,  and  Mrs.  Gurrage 
would  chaperon  me  there.  So,  after  all,  I  am 
going  with  Mrs.  Gurrage!  Grandmamma  also 
added  that  she  had  explained  the  circumstances 
of  her  health  to  them,  and  that  Augustus  had 
suggested  that  the  wedding  should  take  place 
with  the  shortest  delay  possible. 

"I  have  told  them  your  want  of  dot,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  must  say  for  these  bourgeois  they  seemed 
to  find  that  a  matter  of  no  importance.  But  they 

43 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

do  not  in  the  least  realize  the  honor  you  are 
doing  them.  That  must  be  for  you  as  a  private 
consolation.  I  have  stipulated,  as  my  time  is 
limited,  that  I  shall  have  you  as  much  to  myself 
as  possible  during  the  month  that  must  elapse 
before  you  can  collect  a  trousseau/' 

For  that  mercy,  how  grateful  I  felt  to  grand- 
mamma! 


IV 


IT  is  difficult  to  judge  of  a  thing  when  your 
mind  is  prejudiced  on  any  point.  Balls  may 
be  delightful,  but  my  first  ball  contained  hours 
which  I  can  only  look  back  upon  as  a  night- 
mare. 

The  Marquis  and  I  arrived  not  too  early; 
Mrs.  Gurrage  and  her  bevy  of  nieces  and  friends 
were  already  in  the  dressing-room.  They  seem- 
ed to  be  plainish,  buxom  girls,  several  of  the 
bony,  pass$  description.  They  looked  at  me 
with  eyes  of  deep  interest.  My  dress,  as  I  said 
before,  was  perfection.  Mrs.  Gurrage  wore  what 
she  told  me  were  the  "family  jewels."  Her 
short  neck  and  undulating  chest  were  covered 
with  pearls,  diamonds,  sapphires,  and  rubies, 
all  jumbled  together,  necklace  after  necklace. 
On  top  of  her  head,  in  front  of  an  imitation  lace 
cap,  a  park  paling  of  diamonds  sat  up  trium- 
phantly; one  almost  saw  its  reflection  in  her 
shining  forehead  below.  In  spite  of  this  splendor, 
my  future  mother-in-law  had  an  unimportant, 
plebeian  appearance,  and  as  we  walked  down  the 
corridor  I  wished  I  was  not  so  tall,  that  I  might 
hide  behind  her. 

45 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Augustus  was  waiting  among  the  other  men 
of  their  party,  with  an  enormous  bouquet.  Not 
one  of  those  dainty  posies  with  dropping  sprays 
one  sees  in  the  Paris  shops,  but  a  good  lump  of 
flowers,  arranged  like  a  cauliflower,  evidently 
the  work  of  the  Tilchester  florist.  How  I  should 
like  to  have  thrown  it  at  his  head ! 

He  gave  me  his  arm,  and  in  this  fashion  we 
entered  the  ballroom.  A  bride  of  the  Saturday 
weddings  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  could  not 
have  looked  more  foolish  than  I  felt.  A  valse 
was  being  played;  the  room  was  full  of  light 
and  color,  all  the  officers  of  the  Yeomanry  in 
their  pretty  uniforms  (Augustus  puffed  with 
pride  in  his),  and  a  general  air  of  gayety  and 
animation  that  would  have  made  my  pulse 
skip  a  month  ago.  We  passed  on  to  the  other 
end  of  the  room  in  this  ridiculous  procession. 
I  am  quite  as  tall  as  Augustus,  and  I  felt  I  was 
towering  over  him,  my  head  was  so  high  in  the 
air — not  with  exaltation,  but  with  a  vague  sense 
of  defiance. 

There  were  several  nice-looking  people  stand- 
ing around  when  at  last  we  arrived  on  the  dais. 
Mrs.  Gurrage  greeted  most  of  them  gushingly 
and  introduced  me. 

"My  future  daughter-in-law,  Miss  Athelstan." 

It  may  have  been  fancy,  but  I  thought  I  caught 
flashes  of  surprise  in  their  eyes.  One  lady — 
Lady  Tilchester  —  the  great  magnate  in  the 
neighborhood,  spoke  to  me.  She  had  gracious, 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

beautiful  manners,  and  although  she  could  not 
know  anything  about  me  or  my  history,  there 
seemed  to  be  sympathy  in  her  big,  brown  eyes. 

"This  is  your  first  ball  Mrs.  Gurrage  tells 
me/'  she  said,  kindly.  "I  hope  you  will  enjoy 
it.  I  must  introduce  some  of  my  party  to  you. 
Ah,  they  are  dancing  now;  I  must  find  them 
presently." 

During  this  Augustus  fidgeted.  He  kept  touch- 
ing my  arm,  half  in  an  outburst  of  affection 
and  half  to  keep  my  attention  from  wandering 
from  him.  He  blustered  politenesses  to  Lady 
Tilchester,  who  smiled  vacantly  while  she  was 
attending  to  something  else.  Then  my  fianc$ 
suggested  that  we  should  dance.  I  agreed;  it 
would  be  an  opportunity  to  get  rid  of  my  cauli- 
flower bouquet,  which  I  flung  viciously  into  a 
chair,  and  off  we  started. 

Augustus  dances  vilely.  When  he  was  not 
bumping  me  against  other  valseurs  he  was 
treading  on  my  toes — a  jig  or  a  funeral-march 
might  have  been  playing  instead  of  a  valse, 
for  all  the  time  of  it  mattered  to  him. 

"I  never  dance  fast,  I  hate  it,"  he  said,  in  the 
first  pause;  "don't  you?" 

"No!  I  like  it— at  least,  I  mean,  I  like  to  do 
whatever  the  music  is  doing,"  I  answered,  try- 
ing to  keep  my  voice  from  showing  the  anger 
and  disgust  I  felt. 

.  "Darling!"  was  all  he  muttered,  as  he  seized 
me  round  the  waist  again. 

47 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"Oh!  it  makes  me  giddy/'  I  said,  which 
was  a  lie  I  am  ashamed  of.  "Let  us  stop/' 

It  was  from  Scylla  to  Charybdis,  for  I  was  led 
to  one  of  the  sitting -out  places.  So  stupidly 
ignorant  was  I  in  the  ways  of  balls  that  I  did 
not  realize  that  we  should  be  practically  alone, 
or  I  would  have  remained  glued  to  the  ball- 
room. However,  before  I  knew  it  we  were  seated 
on  a  sofa  behind  a  screen,  in  a  subdued  light. 

"  Are  you  never  going  to  give  me  a  kiss,  Am- 
brosine?"  Augustus  said,  pleadingly. 

"  Certainly  not  here/'  I  exclaimed.  "  How  can 
you  be  so  horrid?" 

"You  are  a  little  vixen." 

"You  may  call  me  what  you  like;  I  'do  not 
care.  But  you  shall  not  make  me  a  public  dis- 
grace/' I  retorted. 

"I  think  you  are  deucedly  unkind  to  me/' 
he  said,  his  sulky  underlip  pouting. 

I  controlled  myself.  I  tried  to  remember  grand- 
mamma's last  advice  to  me,  to  be  as  agreeable 
as  possible  and  not  come  to  a  quarrel.  She 
said  I  must  even  submit  to  a  certain  amount 
of  familiarity  from  my  betrothed.  These  were 
her  words :  '  It  is  in  the  nature  of  men,  my 
child,  to  wish  to  demonstrate  by  outward  marks 
of  affection  their  possession  and  appreciation  of 
their  fianc&s,  and,  unfortunately,  the  English 
customs  permit  such  an  amount  of  license  in 
this  direction  that  I  fear  you  must  submit  to 
a  little,  at  least,  with  a  good  grace." 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  softened  my  voice.  "I  do  not  mean  to  be 
unkind/'  I  said,  "but  it  is  all  so  very  sudden. 
You  must  give  me  time  to  accustom  myself  to 
the  idea  of  having  a  fiance — you  see,  I  have 
never  had  one  before/'  and  I  tried  to  laugh. 

He  was  slightly  mollified. 

"  Well,  at  least  let  me  hold  your  hand/'  he  said. 

I  gave  him  a  stiff,  unsympathetic  set  of  fingers, 
which  he  proceeded  to  kiss  through  the  glove. 
My  attention  was  so  taken  up  with  trying  to  see 
if  any  one  was  coming,  to  avoid  the  disgrace  of 
being  caught  thus,  that  I  had  not  even  time  to 
feel  the  nastiness  of  it. 

Augustus  was  murmuring  sentences  of  love 
all  the  time.  It  must  have  sounded  like  this: 

"Darling,  what  a  dear  little  paw!" 

"Oh!  is  not  that  a  lady  looking  this  way?" 

"I  should  like  to  kiss  your  arm — " 

"  I  am  sure  they  can  see  in  here  by  that  look- 
ing-glass/' 

"Why  won't  you  let  me  kiss  just  that  jolly 
little  curl  on  your  neck?" 

"I  am  certain  some  one  is  coming — oh! — oh!" 

These  "ohs"  were  caused  by  Augustus  hav- 
ing got  so  beside  himself  that  he  actually  bent 
down  and  kissed  my  shoulder! 

A  sudden  sense  of  helplessness  came  over 
me.  I  felt  crushed,  as  if  I  could  not  fight  any 
more,  as  if  all  was  ended. 

"Good  God!  How  white  you  are,  darling !  What 
is  the  matter?"  I  heard  his  voice  saying,  as  if 
4  49 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

in  a  dream.  "  Come,  let  me  take  you  to  have 
some  champagne/' 

I  bounded  up  at  that — I  should  get  out  of  this 
cage.  In  the  refreshment-room  some  of  the  other 
Yeomen  were  standing  with  their  partners.  The 
dance  was  over  and  they  came  up,  and  Augus- 
tus introduced  several  of  them,  and,  mercifully, 
I  was  soon  engaged  to  dance  for  numbers  ahead. 
Neither  their  faces  nor  their  conversation  made 
the  slightest  impression  on  me.  These  were 
the  "  jolly  fellows/'  I  suppose,  but  I  felt  grateful 
to  them  for  taking  up  my  time,  and  I  talked 
as  gayly  as  I  could,  and  one  or  two  of  them 
danced  nicely.  Between  each  dance  there  was 
Augustus  waiting  for  me.  But  I  soon  found  it 
was  the  custom  to  stay  with  one's  partner  until 
the  next  dance  began,  and  so  after  that  I  hid 
in  every  possible  place  for  the  intervals,  and 
then  took  refuge  with  the  Marquis.  Presently 
there  was  a  set  of  lancers.  Augustus  rushed 
up  to  me  before  I  could  hide. 

"I  don't  care  who  you  are  engaged  to,"  he 
said,  savagely.  "You  must  dance  this  with 
me.  I  have  been  deuced  patient  these  last  four 
dances,  but  I  won't  stand  being  chucked  like 
this  any  longer." 

"I  am  not  engaged  to  any  one,"  I  said,  stiffly. 

He  tucked  my  hand  under  his  arm  and  dragged 
me  to  where  a  set  was  forming,  but  on  the  way 
Lady  Tilchester  beckoned  us  to  the  middle.  We 
took  up  our  position  at  one  of  the  sides  of  her 

50 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

set.  Augustus  was  so  flattered  at  this  notice 
that  he  forgot  to  grumble  further  at  my  long 
absence. 

Except  ourselves,  the  rest  of  the  sixteen  people 
appeared  to  be  all  of  her  party,  and  they  looked 
so  gay  and  seemed  enjoying  themselves;  I  am 
afraid  grandmamma  would  have  said  they  romp- 
ed, rather.  Our  ms-h-vis  were  such  a  pretty  girl 
and  a  very  tall  man,  and  when  first  he  advanced 
to  meet  us  I  felt  I  had  seen  him  before,  and  by 
the  second  figure  I  knew  it  was  my  friend  of  the 
knife.  He  is  very  good-looking  without  the  mud. 
Not  the  least  expression  of  recognition  came 
into  his  face,  but  he  laughed  gayly  at  the  fun 
of  the  thing.  After  the  mad  whirl  of  a  chasse, 
instead  of  a  ladies'  chain  I  have  been  accus- 
tomed to,  we  came  to  an  end.  This  dance  was 
the  first  moment  of  the  evening  I  had  enjoyed. 
All  these  people  interested  me;  they  seemed  of 
another  world,  a  world  where  grandmamma  and 
I  could  live  happily  if  we  might.  They  made 
quite  a  noise,  and  they  danced  badly,  but  there 
was  nothing  vulgar  or  bourgeois  about  them. 
I  felt  like  an  animal  who  sees  its  own  kind 
again,  after  captivity;  I  wanted  to  break  away 
and  join  them.  Augustus,  on  the  contrary,  was 
extremely  ill  at  ease. 

After  that,  one  dance  succeeded  another — 
numbers  of  which  I  had  to  spend  with  my  fianc$, 
but,  warned  by  my  first  experience,  I  always 
pretended  a  great  thirst,  or  a  desire  to  see  the 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

rooms,  or  an  obligation  to  return  to  the  Marquis, 
and  so  went  to  no  more  sitting-out  places.  I 
did  not  again  see  the  tall  man — he  seemed  to 
have  disappeared  until  a  dance  after  supper, 
when  we  met  him  with  Lady  Tilchester. 

"Ah!  here  you  are,"  she  said.  "I  have  been 
wanting  to  find  you  to  introduce — "  At  that 
moment  an  old  gentleman  guffawed  loudly  near 
us,  and  so  I  did  not  catch  the  name  she  said, 
but  we  bowed,  and  the  tall  man  asked  me  if 
I  would  dance  that  one  with  him. 

Without  the  least  hesitation  I  disengaged 
my  hand  from  the  arm  of  Augustus  (he  likes 
to  walk  thus  on  every  occasion),  and  said, 
"Yes." 

"Oh!  I  say,"  said  my  fiancg,  with  the  savage 
look  in  his  face,  "you  were  going  to  dance  with 
me." 

Then  Lady  Tilchester  interfered — what  a  dear 
and  kind  soul  she  must  have!  She  said  so 
sweetly,  as  if  Augustus  was  a  prince,  "Won't 
you  accept  me  as  a  substitute,  Mr.  Gurrage?" 

Augustus  was  overcome  with  pride,  and  re- 
linquished me  with  the  best  grace. 

Now  it  was  really  bliss,  dancing  with  this 
man;  we  swam  along,  swift  and  smoothly.  I 
could  no  longer  see  the  walls ;  a  maze  of  lights 
was  all  my  vision  grasped — I  felt  bewildered — 
happy.  We  stopped  a  moment  and  he  bent  down 
and  smiled  at  me. 

"You  look  as  if  you  liked  dancing,"  he  said. 
52 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"  Poor  Lady  Tilchester  is  being  mauled  by  that 
bear  in  your  place." 

I  laughed.     "I  love  dancing." 

"  I  seldom  do  this  sort  of  thing/'  he  continued, 
"but  you  are  a  beautiful  mover,"  and  we  began 
again. 

When  it  was  over  we  went  and  sat  down  in 
the  very  alcove  of  my  first  dance  with  Augustus. 
I  had  no  uneasiness  this  time! 

I  can't  say  what  there  was  about  my  partner 
— a  whimsical  humor,  a  slight  mocking  sound 
in  his  voice,  which  pleased  me;  he  took  nothing 
seriously;  everything  he  said  was  as  light  as 
a  thistle-down;  he  reminded  me  of  the  wit  of 
grandmamma  and  the  Marquis ;  we  got  on  beau- 
tifully. 

"I  seem  to  have  seen  you  before,"  he  said, 
at  last.  "  Have  I  met  you  in  Paris?  or  am  I  only 
dreaming?  because  I  know  you  so  well  in  the 
galleries  at  Versailles —you  stepped  down  from 
those  frames  just  to  honor  us  to-night,  did  you 
not?— and  you  will  go  back  at  cock-crow!" 

"If  I  only  could!" 

He  asked  me  if  I  was  staying  at  Brackney  or 
Henchhurst,  and  when  I  said  no,  that  I  lived 
only  a  few  miles  off,  he  seemed  so  surprised. 

His  brown  hair  crimps  nicely  and  is  rather 
gray  above  the  ears,  but  he  does  not  look  very 
old,  perhaps  not  more  than  thirty-five  or  so,  and 
now  that  one  can  see  both  his  eyes,  one  realizes 
that  they  are  rather  attractive.  A  grayish, 

53 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

greeny-blue,  with  black  edges,  and  such  black 
eyelashes!  They  are  as  clear  as  clear,  and 
I  am  sure  he  is  a  cat  and  can  see  in  the  dark. 
He  laughed  at  some  of  the  people,  even  the  ones 
who  think  themselves  great,  and  he  made  me 
feel  that  he  and  I  were  the  same  and  on  a  plane 
by  ourselves,  which  was  delightful.  All  this 
time  I  did  not  know  his  name,  nor  he  mine.  As 
he  moved  I  saw  a  gold  chain  in  the  pocket  of 
his  white  waistcoat,  and  just  peeping  out  was 
the  hilt  of  my  little  lost  knife.  I  said  nothing 
— I  don't  know  why  —  it  pleased  me  to  see  it 
there.  He  had  been  away  in  the  smoking- 
room  most  of  the  evening,  he  said,  playing 
bridge. 

The  Marquis  is  teaching  it  to  grandmamma 
out  of  a  book,  but  I  do  not  care  for  cards — and 
it  seemed  to  me  such  a  dull  way  to  spend  a  ball. 
I  told  him  so. 

"I  like  this  better/'  he  said,  quite  simply, 
"but  then  at  most  balls  one  does  not  meet  a 
dainty  marquise  out  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
Let  me  see,  was  there  not  a  story  of  the  great 
Dumas  about  a  demoiselle  d'honneur  of  Marie 
Antoinette — I  don't  remember  her  name  or  her 
history,  but  she  became  the  Comtesse  de  Charny. 
Now  I  shall  think  of  you  by  that  name  —  the 
Comtesse  de  Charny.  Tell  me,  Comtesse,  does 
it  not  shock  your  senses,  our  modern  worship 
of  that  excellent,  useful,  comfortable  fellow, 
the  Golden  Calf?" 

54 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"I  don't  know  anything  at  all  about  him — 
who  is  he?"  I  said. 

"Oh,  he  is  a  Jew,  or  a  Turk,  or  an  African 
millionaire — any  one  with  a  hundred  thousand 
a  year/' 

I  thought  of  Augustus — "calf"  seemed  just 
the  word  for  him. 

I  laughed. 

"We  have  a  beautiful  example  of  one  here 
to-night/'  he  continued;  "indeed  you  were  dan- 
cing with  him  —  the  bear  who  mauled  Lady 
Tilchester.  How  did  you  get  to  know  such  a 
person?" 

My  heart  gave  a  bound. 

"I  am  engaged  to  Mr.  Gurrage,"  I  said,  in  a 
half  voice,  but  raising  my  head. 

Oh,  the  surprise  and — and  disgust  in  his  eyesl 
Then,  I  don't  know  what  he  saw  in  my  face, 
I  tried  only  to  look  calm  and  indifferent,  but 
the  contempt  went  out  of  his  manner,  his  eyes 
softened,  and  he  put  out  his  hand  and  touched 
my  fingers  very  gently. 

"Oh,  you  poor  little  white  Comtesse!"  he  said. 

I  ought  to  have  been  furious.  Pity,  as  a  rule, 
angers  me  so  that  it  would  render  me  capable 
of  being  torn  to  pieces  by  lions  without  flinch- 
ing; but  I  am  ashamed — oh!  so  ashamed — to 
say  that  tears  sprang  up  into  my  eyes — tears! 
Mercifully,  grandmamma  will  never  know. 

"Come,"  I  said,  and  we  rose  and  walked  down 
the  corridor.  There  we  met  Augustus,  with  a 

55 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

face  like  thunder.     He  had  been  looking  every 
where  for  me,  he  said.     It  appeared  we  had  been 
sitting  out  for  two  dances. 

"You  promised  me  this  one  more  turn/'  said 
the  tall  man,  quite  unabashed;  "they  are  play- 
ing a  charming  valse." 

"She  is  engaged  to  me/'  growled  Augustus. 

"No,  I  am  not/'  I  said,  smiling  into  his  angry 
face;  "I  am  quite  my  own  mistress  as  regards 
whom  I  dance  with.  I  will  come  back  when  it 
is  finished  and  you  shall  have  the  next  one/' 
and  I  walked  off  with  my  friend  of  the  knife. 

Whether  my  fiancG  stood  there  and  swore  or 
not  I  do  not  know;  I  did  not  look  back.  We 
did  not  speak  a  word  until  the  dance  was  fin- 
ished, my  partner  and  I.  Then  he  said: 

"Thank  you,  little  lady.  We  have,  at  all 
events,  snatched  some  few  good  moments  out 
of  this  evening.  Now,  I  suppose,  we  must  re- 
turn to  your — bear/' 

Augustus  was  standing  by  the  buffet  drink- 
ing champagne  when  we  caught  sight  of  him. 
We  stepped  for  a  moment  out  of  his  view  behind 
some  palms. 

"Good-bye,  Comtesse." 

"Good-bye/'  I  said.  "Will  you  tell  me  your 
name?  I  did  not  hear  it — " 

"My  name!  Oh,  my  name  is  Antony  Thorn- 
hirst — why  do  you  start?" 

"I— did  not  start— good-bye— " 

"No,  you  shall  not  go  until  you  tell  me  why 
56 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

you  started?  And  your  name,  too;  I  do  not 
know  it  either!" 

"Ambrosine  de  Calincourt  Athelstan." 

He  knitted  his  level  eyebrows  as  if  trying  to 
recall  something,  and  absently  began  to  pull 
the  knife  out  of  his  pocket.  Augustus  was 
coming  towards  us. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "but  it  is  too  late.  Good- 
bye." 

The  look  of  indifference,  the  rather  mocking 
smile,  the  sans  souci,  which  are  the  chief  charac- 
teristics of  his  face,  altered.  I  left  him  puzzled 
— moved. 

Grandmamma  was  awake,  propped  up  in  bed, 
her  hair  still  powdered  and  her  lace  night-cap 
on,  when  the  Marquis  and  I  got  home.  I  leaned 
over  the  rail  and  told  her  all  about  the  ball. 
The  Marquis  sat  in  the  arm-chair  by  the  fire. 

"And  where  is  your  promised  bouquet,  my 
child?"  she  asked. 

I  faltered. 

"Well,  you  see,  grandmamma,  I  put  it  in  a 
chair  after  the  beginning,  and  Mrs.  Gurrage  sat 
on  it,  so  I  thought  perhaps,  as  it  was  all  mashed, 
I  could  leave  it  behind." 

Grandmamma  laughed;  she  was  pleased,  I 
could  see,  that  the  evening  had  gone  off  without 
a  fiasco! 

"I  met  Sir  Antony  Thornhirst,"  I  said. 

The  blue  mark  appeared  vividly  and  suddenly 
57 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

round  grandmamma's  mouth — she  shut  her  eyes 
for  a  moment.  I  rushed  to  her. 

"Oh,  dear  grandmamma/'  I  said,  "what  can 
I  do?" 

She  drank  something  out  of  a  glass  beside 
her,  and  then  said,  in  rather  a  weak  voice: 

"You  were  saying  you  met  your  kinsman. 
And  what  was  he  like,  Ambrosine?" 

"  Well,  he  was  tall  and  very  straight,  and  had 
small  ears  and — er — a  fairish  mustache  that  was 
brushed  up  a  little  away  from  his  lips,  and — 
and  cat's  eyes,  and — brown,  crimpy  hair,  get- 
ting a  little  gray/' 

"Yes,  yes;  but  I  mean  what  sort  of  a  man?" 

"Oh!  a  gentleman/' 

"But  of  course." 

"Well,  he  laughed  at  everything  and  called 
me  an  eighteenth-century  comtesse." 

"Did  he  know  who  you  were?" 

"  No,  not  till  the  end,  and  then  I  do  not  think 
he  realized  that  I  was  a  connection  of  his." 

"It  does  not  matter,"  said  grandmamma,  low 
to  herself,  "as  it  is  too  late/' 

"Yes,  I  told  him  it  was  too  late." 

Grandmamma's  voice  sharpened. 

"You  told  him!  What  do  you  mean?"  and 
she  leaned  forward  a  little. 

"I  don't  quite  know  what  I  did  mean — those 
words  just  slipped  out." 

She  lay  back  on  her  pillows — poor  grand- 
mamma— as  if  she  was  exhausted. 

58 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"Child/'  she  said,  very  low,  "yes  —  never 
forget  we  have  given  our  word;  whatever  hap- 
pens, any  change  is  too  late." 

A  look  of  anguish  came  over  her  face.  Oh, 
how  it  hurt  me  to  see  her  suffering! 

"Dear  grandmamma/''  I  said,  "do  not  think 
I  mind.  I  have  done  and  will  do  all  you  wish, 
and  —  and  —  as  the  Marquis  said  — it  will  not 
matter  in  a  year/' 

The  Marquis,  I  believe,  had  been  dozing,  but  at 
the  sound  of  his  name  he  looked  up  and  spoke. 

"  Chere  amie,  you  can  indeed  be  proud  of  la 
belle  debutante  to-night ;  she  was  by  far  the  most 
beautiful  at  the  ball — sans  exception!  Even  the 
adorable  Lady  Tilchester  had  not  her  grand 
air.  Les  demoiselles  anglaises !  Ce  sont  des  fago- 
tages  inou'is  pour  la  plus  part,  with  their  move- 
ments of  the  wooden  horse  and  their  skins  of 
the  goddess!  As  for  le  fianc&,  il  6tait  assez  re- 
tenu,  il  avait  pourtant  I'air  maussade,  mais  il 
se  consolait  avec  du  champagne — il  fera  un  tres 
brave  mari." 


THE  next  day  Augustus  went  to  London  by 
the  early  train.  I  fortunately  saw  the  dog-cart 
coming,  and  rushed  to  tell  Hephzibah  to  say  I 
was  not  up  if  he  stopped,  which  of  course  he  did 
on  his  way  to  the  station.  He  left  a  message 
for  me.  He  would  be  back  at  half -past  four,  and 
would  come  in  to  tea.  The  Marquis  and  I  were 
to  dine  there  in  the  evening,  so  I  am  sure  that 
would  be  time  enough  to  have  seen  him.  Grand- 
mamma said  it  was  no  doubt  the  engagement- 
ring  he  had  gone  to  London  to  buy,  and  that  I 
really  must  receive  it  with  a  good  grace. 

At  about  four  o'clock,  while  I  was  reading 
aloud  the  oration  of  Bossuet  on  the  funeral  of 
Madame  d'OrlSans,  the  tuff-tuff-tuff  of  a  motor- 
car was  heard,  and  it  drew  up  at  our  gate  and  out 
got  Sir  Antony  Thornhirst  and  Lady  Tilchester. 

Although  I  could  see  them  with  the  corner  of 
my  eye,  and  grandmamma  could  too,  I  should 
not  have  dared  to  have  stopped  my  reading,  and 
was  actually  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence  when 
Hephzibah  announced  them.  I  did  not  forget  to 
make  my  reverence  this  time,  and  grandmamma 
half  rose  from  her  chair.  Lady  Tilchester  has 

60 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

the  most  lovely  manners.  In  a  few  minutes  we 
all  felt  perfectly  happy  together,  and  she  had 
told  us  how  Sir  Antony  was  so  anxious  to  make 
grandmamma's  acquaintance,  having  discovered 
by  chance  that  he  was  a  connection  of  hers,  that 
she — Lady  Tilchester — had  slipped  away  from 
her  guests  and  brought  him  over  in  her  new 
motor,  and  she  trusted  grandmamma  would  for- 
give her  unannounced  descent  upon  us.  She 
also  said  how  she  wished  she  had  heard  before 
that  we  were  in  this  neighborhood,  that  she 
might  have  months  ago  made  our  acquaintance, 
and  could  perhaps  have  been  useful  to  us. 

I  shall  always  love  her,  her  sweet  voice  and 
the  beautiful  diffidence  of  her  manner  to  grand- 
mamma, as  though  she  were  receiving  a  great 
honor  by  grandmamma's  reception  of  her.  So 
different  to  Mrs.  Gurrage's  patronizing  vulgarity ! 
I  could  see  grandmamma  was  delighted  with  her. 

Sir  Antony  talked  to  me.  He  asked  me  if  I 
was  tired,  or  something  banal  like  that ;  his  voice 
was  distraite.  I  answered  him  gayly,  and  then  we 
changed  seats,  and  he  had  a  conversation  with 
grandmamma.  I  do  not  know  what  they  spoke 
about,  as  Lady  Tilchester  and  I  went  to  the  other 
end  of  the  room,  but  his  manner  looked  so  gallant, 
and  I  knew  by  grandmamma's  face  that  she  was 
saying  the  witty,  sententious  things  that  she 
does  to  the  Marquis.  A  faint  pink  flush  came 
into  her  cheeks  which  made  her  look  such  a  very 
beautiful  old  lady. 

61 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Lady  Tilchester  talked  to  me  about  the  garden 
and  the  ball  the  night  before,  and  at  last  asked 
me  when  I  was  going  to  be  married. 

It  seemed  to  bring  me  back  with  a  rush  to  earth 
from  some  enchanted  world  which  contained  no 
Augustus. 

"  I — don't  know/'  I  faltered,  and  then,  ashamed 
of  my  silly  voice,  said,  firmly,  "'Grandmamma 
has  not  arranged  the  date  yet — " 

"I  hope  you  will  be  very  happy/'  said  Lady 
Tilchester,  and  she  would  not  look  at  me,  which 
was  kind  of  her. 

'"Thank  you/'  I  said.  "Grandmamma  is  no 
longer  young,  and  she  will  feel  relieved  to  know 
I  have  a  home  of  my  own." 

"It  is  delightful  to  think  we  shall  have  you 
for  a  neighbor.  Harley  is  only  fifteen  miles 
from  here.  I  wonder  if  Mrs.  Athelstan  would 
let  you  come  and  stay  a  few  days  with  me?" 

"Oh!  I  should  love  to,"  I  said. 

However,  grandmamma,  when  the  subject  was 
broached  to  her  presently,  firmly  declined. 

"A  month  ago  I  should  have  accepted  with 
much  pleasure/'  she  said,  "but  circumstances 
and  my  health  do  not  now  permit  me  to  part 
even  for  a  short  time  with  Ambrosine." 

She  looked  at  Lady  Tilchester  and  Lady  Til- 
chester looked  back  at  her,  and  although  noth- 
ing more  was  said  about  the  matter,  I  am  sure 
they  understood  each  other. 

Sir  Antony  came  and  sat  by  me  in  the  win- 
62 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

dow-sill.  I  was  wearing  my  chatelaine  and  he 
noticed  it. 

"I  am  a  blind  idiot \"  he  exclaimed.  "Of 
course  you  are  the  kind  lady  who  lent  me  the 
knife,  which  I  broke,  and  then  stole  in  a  brutal 
way." 

"I  saw  you  did  not  recognize  me  the  other 
night." 

"  I  could  only  see  out  of  one  eye,  you  know, 
that  day  in  the  lane— that  must  be  my  excuse." 

I  said  nothing. 

"I  am  not  going  to  give  back  the  knife." 

"Then  it  is  real  stealing  —  and  it  spoils  my 
chatelaine,"  I  said,  holding  up  the  empty  chain. 

"I  will  give  you  another  in  its  place,  but  I 
must  keep  this  one." 

"That  is  silly— why?" 

"  It  is  very  agreeable  to  do  silly  things  some- 
times— for  instance,  I  should  like — " 

What  he  would  have  liked  I  never  knew,  for  at 
that  moment  we  both  caught  sight  of  Augustus 
getting  out  of  his  station  brougham  at  our  gate. 

"Here  comes  your  bear,"  said  Sir  Antony,  but 
he  did  not  attempt  to  stir  from  his  seat.  We 
could  see  Augustus  walk  up  the  path  and  turn 
the  handle  of  the  front  door  without  ringing. 
In  this  impertinence  I  am  glad  to  say  he  was 
checked,  as  Hephzibah  had  fortunately  let  the 
bolt  slip  after  showing  in  Lady  Tilchester.  He 
rang  an  angry  peal.  Grandmamma  frowned. 

When  Augustus  finally  got  into  the  room  his 
63 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

face  was  purple.  He  had  hardly  self-control 
enough  to  greet  Lady  Tilchester  with  his  usual 
obsequiousness.  She  talked  charmingly  to  him 
for  a  few  moments,  and  then  got  up  to  go. 

Meanwhile  Sir  Antony  had  been  conversing 
with  me  quite  as  if  no  fianc$  had  entered  the 
room. 

"You  know  we  are  cousins/'  he  said. 

"Very  distant  ones/' 

"  Why  on  earth  did  you  not  let  me  know  when 
first  you  came  to  this  place ?" 

"Grandmamma  has  never  told  me  why  she 
left  you  uninformed  of  our  arrival/'  I  laughed. 
"How  could  we  have  known  it  would  interest 
you?" 

"  But  you — don't  you  ever  do  anything  of  your 
own  accord?" 

"I  would  like  to  sometimes." 

"It  is  monstrous  to  have  kept  you  shut  up 
here  and  then  to — " 

Augustus  crossed  the  room. 

"Ambrosine,"  he  interrupted,  rudely,  "I  shall 
come  and  fetch  you  this  evening  for  dinner,  as 
you  are  too  busy  now  to  speak  to  me." 

"Very  well,"  I  said. 

Sir  Aiitony  rose,  and  we  made  a  general  good- 
bye. 

There  was  something  disturbed  in  his  face — 
as  if  he  had  not  said  what  he  meant  to.  A  sick- 
ening anger  and  disgust  with  fate  made  my 
hand  cold.  Oh!— if—  Alas! 

64 


VI 


TO-MORROW  is  my  wedding-day — the  I  Oth  of 
June.  There  is  my  dress  spread  over  the  sofa, 
looking  like  a  ghost  in  the  dim  light — I  have  only 
one  candle  on  the  dressing-table.  It  is  pouring 
rain  and  there  are  rumbles  of  thunder  in  the 
distance.  Well,  let  it  pour  and  hail  and  rage, 
and  do  what  it  pleases — I  don't  care !  Just  now 
a  flash  came  nearer  and  seemed  to  catch  the 
huge  diamonds  in  my  engagement  -  ring,  which 
hangs  loose  on  my  finger  now.  I  flung  it  into 
the  little  china  tray,  where  strings  of  pearls  and 
a  fender  tiara  are  already  reposing  ready  for  to- 
morrow. I  shall  blaze  with  jewels,  and  Augustus 
will  be  able  to  tell  the  guests  how  much  they 
all  cost. 

This  month  of  my  fiangailles  has  been  noth- 
ing agreeable  to  recall.  Indeed,  I  should  not 
have  been  able  to  go  through  with  it  only  the 
blue  mark  has  so  often  appeared  round  grand- 
mamma's mouth,  especially  when  Augustus  and 
I  have  had  trifling  differences  of  opinion. 

Long  years  ago,  one  summer  we  spent  at 
Versailles  when  I  was  a  child,  I  remember  an 
incident. 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  was  sitting  reading  aloud  to  grandmamma  in 
the  garden  when  from  the  trees  above  there  fell 
upon  my  neck,  which  was  bare,  a  fat,  hairy 
caterpillar.  I  recollect  I  gave  a  gurgling,  nasty 
scream,  and  dropped  the  book. 

Grandmamma  was  very  angry.  She  explain- 
ed to  me  that  such  noises  were  extremely  vulgar, 
and  that  if  my  flesh  was  so  little  under  control 
that  this  should  turn  me  sick,  the  sooner  I  got 
over  such  fancies  the  better. 

She  made  me  pick  the  creature  up  and  let  it 
crawl  over  my  arm.  At  first  I  nearly  felt  mad 
with  horror,  but  gradually  custom  deadened  the 
sensation,  and  although  it  remained  disagree- 
able, I  could  contemplate  it  without  emotion. 

This  memory  has  often  proved  useful  to  me 
during  this  last  month.  To -day,  even,  I  was 
able  to  sit  upon  the  sofa  and  allow  Augustus  to 
kiss  me  for  quite  ten  minutes,  without  having  to 
rush  up  and  take  sal-volatile,  as  I  had  to  in  the 
beginning. 

I  have  been  through  various  trying  ordeals. 
The  tenants  have  presented  us  with  silver  trays 
and  other  things,  and  we  have  listened  to  speech- 
es, and  bowed  sweetly,  and  numbers  of  hitherto 
distant  acquaintances  have  showered  presents 
upon  us.  My  future  mother-in-law  has  loaded 
me  with  advice,  chiefly  of  a  purely  domestic  kind, 
most  of  it  a  guide  as  to  how  I  had  better  please 
Augustus. 

It  appears  he  likes  thick  toast  in  preference 
66 


CHE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

to  thin,  and  thick  soups;  also  that  a  habit  he  has 
of  taking  Welsh  rarebit  and  stout  for  a  late  supper 
when  he  sits  up  alone  is  not  good  for  his  diges- 
tion and  is  to  be  discouraged.  She  hopes  I  will 
see  that  he  wears  his  second  thinnest  Jager  vests 
in  Paris,  not  the  thinnest — which  ought  to  be  kept 
for  August  warmth — as  once  before  when  there 
he  caught  a  bad  catarrh  of  the  chest  through 
this  imprudence. 

Lady  Tilchester  is  coming  down  from  London 
in  a  special  train  on  purpose  to  grace  our  bridal 
ceremony.  She  has  sent  me  the  prettiest  brooch 
and  such  a  nice  letter. 

I  hope  she  will  be  a  consolation  in  the  future. 
For  me  life  must  be  a  thing  of  waking  in  the 
morning,  and  eating  and  drinking,  and  taking 
exercise,  and  going  to  bed  again,  and  deadening 
all  emotions,  or  else  I  feel  sure  I  shall  get  a  dread- 
ful disease  I  once  read  about  in  an  American 
paper  Hephzibah  takes  in.  It  is  called  "  sponta- 
neous combustion/'  and  it  said  in  the  paper 
that  a  man  caught  it  from  having  got  into  a 
compressed  state  of  heat  and  rage  for  weeks,  and 
it  made  him  burst  up  at  last  into  flames  like  an 
exploding  shell. 

Well,  at  all  events,  I  have  kept  my  word,  and 
grandmamma  is  content  with  me. 

Miss  Hoad — I  shall  have  to  call  her  Amelia 
now  —  is  enchanted  with  the  whole  entertain- 
ment. She  is  to  be  the  only  bridesmaid,  and 
has  chosen  the  dress  herself.  It  is  coffee  lace 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

with  a  mustard-yellow  sash.  It  will  match  her 
complexion.  And  Augustus  is  presenting  her 
with  a  huge  bouquet,  no  doubt  of  the  cauli- 
flower shape,  like  my  famous  one,  besides  a 
diamond-and-ruby  watch. 

I  wonder  if  Sir  Antony  will  be  at  the  wedding — 
he  was  asked. 

The  Marquis  de  Rochermont  will  give  me  away 
— grandmamma  is  too  feeble  now  to  stand.  The 
ceremony  is  to  be  in  the  village  church  here, 
and  the  choir,  composed  of  village  youths  un- 
acquainted with  a  note  of  music,  is  to  meet  us  at 
the  lich-gate  and  precede  us  up  the  aisle,  sing- 
ing an  encouraging  wedding-hymn,  while  school- 
children spread  forced  white  roses,  provided  by 
the  Tilchester  rose-growers. 

Augustus  explained  that  patronizing  local  re- 
sources like  this  will  all  come  in  useful  when  he 
stands  for  Parliament  later  on. 

Grandmamma  stipulated  that  there  should 
be  no  wedding  feast,  her  health  and  our  small 
house  being  sufficient  excuse.  It  is  a  great  dis- 
appointment to  Mrs.  Gurrage,  I  am  sure,  but  we 
go  away  to  Paris  as  soon  as  I  can  change  my 
dress  after  the  church  ceremony. 

Think  of  it!  This  time  to-morrow  my  name 
will  be  Gurrage!  And  Augustus  will  have  the 
right  to —  Merciful  God!  stop  my  heart  from 
beating  in  this  sickening  fashion,  and  let 
me  remember  the  motto  of  my  race — "  Sans 
bruit." 

68 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Oh,  grandmamma,  if  I  could  go  on  your  jour- 
ney with  you!  The  first  jump  out  into  the  dark 
might  be  fearful,  but  afterwards  it  would  be 
quiet  and  still,  and  there  would  be  no  cater- 
pillars ! 

That  was  a  beautiful  flash  of  lightning !  The 
storm  is  coming  nearer.  Sparks  flew  from  my 
diamond  fender  on  the  dressing-table.  Well — 
well — I — I  wish  I  had  seen  Sir  Antony  again. 
Just  now  he  sent  me  a  present.  It  is  a  knife  for 
my  chatelaine,  the  hilt  studded  with  diamonds, 
and  there  is  a  note  which  says  that  there  is  still 
time  to  cut  the  Gordian  knot. 

What  does  it  mean?  I  feel  cold,  as  if  I  could 
not  understand  things  to-night. 

The  Marquis  gave  me  some  conseils  de  mariage 
this  afternoon. 

"Remain  placid/'  he  said,  "  fermez  les  yeux 
et  pensez  a  autrui — aprds  vous  aurez  les  agre- 
ments." 

Grandmamma  has  not  even  kissed  me.  Her 
eyes  resemble  a  hawk's  still,  but  have  the  look 
of  a  tortured  tiger  as  well  sometimes.  She 
has  grown  terribly  feeble,  and  has  twice  had 
fainting-fits  like  the  one  that  changed  my  des- 
tiny. I  believe  she  is  remaining  alive  simply 
by  strength  of  will  and  that  she  will  die  when 
all  is  over. 

She  has  given  me  the  greatest  treasure  of  her 
life,  the  miniature  of  Ambrosine  Eustasie.  I  have 
it  here  by  my  side  for  my  very  own. 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Yes,  Ambrosine  Eustasie,  for  me  to-morrow 
there  is  also  the  guillotine;  and  perhaps  I,  too, 
could  walk  up  the  steps  smiling  if  I  were  allowed 
a  rose  to  keep  off  the  smell  of  the  common  people ; 
Augustus's  mother  uses  patchouli. 


BOOK  II 


I 


No  one  can  possibly  imagine  the  unpleasant- 
ness of  a  honey-moon  until  they  have  tried  it. 
It  is  no  wonder  one  is  told  nothing  at  all  about 
it.  Even  to  keep  my  word  and  obey  grand- 
mamma I  could  never  have  undertaken  it  if  I 
had  had  an  idea  what  it  would  be  like.  Really, 
girls'  dreams  are  the  silliest  things  in  the  world. 
I  can't  help  staring  at  all  the  married  people  I 
see  about.  "You — poor  wretches! — have  gone 
through  this/'  I  say  to  myself;  and  then  I  wonder 
and  wonder  that  they  can  smile  and  look  gay. 
I  long  to  ask  them  when  the  calmness  and  in- 
difference set  in ;  how  long  I  shall  have  to  wait 
before  I  can  really  profit  by  grandmamma's 
lesson  of  the  caterpillar.  It  was  useful  for  the 
fiangailles,  but  it  has  not  comforted  me  much 
since  my  wedding. 

In  old-fashioned  books,  when  the  heroine 
comes  to  anything  exciting,  or  when  the  situa- 
tion is  too  difficult  for  the  author  to  describe, 
there  is  always  a  row  of  stars.  It  seems  to  mean 
a  jump,  a  break  to  be  filled  up  as  each  person 
pleases.  I  feel  I  must  leave  this  part  of  my  life 
marked  with  this  row  of  stars. 

73 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

It  is  two  weeks  now  since  I  wrote  my  name 
Ambrosine  de  Calincourt  Athelstan  for  the  last 
time,  two  weeks  since  I  walked  down  the  rose- 
strewn  guillotine  steps  on  Augustus's  arm,  two 
weeks  since  he —  Ah,  no !  I  will  never  look  back 
at  that.  Let  these  hideous  two  weeks  sink  into 
the  abyss  of  oblivion! 

It  hardly  seems  possible  that  in  fifteen  days 
one  could  so  completely  alter  one's  views  and 
notions  of  life.  I  cannot  look  at  anything  with 
the  same  eyes.  It  is  all  very  well  for  people  to 
talk  philosophy,  but  it  is  difficult  to  be  philosoph- 
ical when  one's  every  sense  is  being  continual^ 
froisse.  I  feel  sometimes  that  I  could  commit 
murder,  and  I  do  not  know  when  I  shall  be  able 
to  take  the  Marquis's  advice  to  remain  placid 
and  shut  my  eyes  and  try  to  get  what  good  out 
of  life  I  can. 

Augustus  as  a  husband  is  extremely  un- 
pleasant. I  hate  the  way  his  hair  is  brushed — 
there  always  seems  to  be  a  lock  sticking  up  in 
the  back;  I  hate  the  way  he  ties  his  ties;  I  hate 
everything  he  says  and  does.  I  keep  saying 
to  myself  when  I  hear  him  coming,  "remember 
the  caterpillar,  caterpillar,  caterpillar."  And 
once  in  the  beginning,  when  I  was  screwing  up 
my  eyes  not  to  see,  he  got  quite  close  before  I 
knew  and  he  heard  me  saying  it  aloud. 

He  bounced  away,  thinking  I  meant  there 
was  one  crawling  on  him,  and  then  he  got  quite 
cross. 

74 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"There  are  no  caterpillars  here,  Ambrosine. 
How  silly  you  are!"  he  said. 

He  revels  in  being  at  once  recognized  as  a 
bridegroom.  He  has  dreadfully  familiar  ways 
and  catches  hold  of  my  arm  in  public,  making 
us  both  perfectly  ridiculous.  He  has  insisted 
upon  buying  me  numbers  of  gorgeous  garments 
for  my  outer  covering,  but  when  I  ventured  to 
order  some  very  fine  other  things  he  grumbled 
at  the  cost. 

"I  don't  mind  your  getting  clothes  that  will 
show  the  money  I've  put  into  them/'  he  ex- 
plained, "  but  I'm  bothered  if  I'll  encourage  use- 
less extravagance  in  this  way." 

At  the  play  he  never  understands  more  than 
a  few  words,  but  is  always  asking  me  to  explain 
what  it  means  when  there  is  anything  interest- 
ing, so  I  miss  most  of  it  myself  from  having  to 
talk,  and  some  of  the  French  plays  are  really 
very  funny,  I  find,  and  have  opened  my  eyes 
a  great  deal,  and  I — even  I — could  laugh  if  I 
were  left  in  peace  to  listen  a  little. 

Augustus  is  furiously  angry,  too,  when  the 
Frenchmen  look  at  me.  I  never  thought  I  could 
even  notice  the  gaze  of  strangers,  but  I  am 
ashamed  to  say  that  last  night  it  quite  pleased 
me. 

We  were  dining  at  Paillard's,  and  two  really 
nice-looking  Frenchmen  had  the  next  table. 
They  looked  at  me,  and  Augustus  glared  at 
them  and  fussed  the  waiters  more  than  usual, 

75 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

and  wanted  to  hurry  me  as  much  as  possible  to 
get  away ;  so  I  asked  for  other  dishes  and  peach- 
es and  nectarines  and  things  out  of  season.  At 
last,  when  I  had  dawdled  quite  an  extra  half- 
hour,  it  came  to  an  end,  and  the  usual  sums  on 
the  margin  of  the  bill  began — Augustus  adds  up 
every  item  to  see  no  sou  has  been  overcharged. 
At  this  point  I  looked  up  and  caught  one  of  the 
Frenchmen's  eye.  Of  course  I  glanced  away 
at  once,  but  there  was  such  a  gleam  of  fun  in 
his  that  I  nearly  smiled.  Then  suddenly  the 
recollection  came  upon  me  that  this  creature, 
this  thing  sitting  opposite  me,  belonged  to  me. 
I  have  his  name,  he  is  my  husband.  I  must 
not  laugh  with  others  at  his  odious  ways.  After 
that  I  was  glad  to  creep  away. 

I  am  worried  about  grandmamma.  She  has 
not  written;  there  only  came  a  small  note  from 
the  Marquis.  1  am  sure  she  must  be  very  ill,  if  not 
already  dead.  I  cannot  grieve;  I  almost  feel  as 
if  I  wished  it  so.  Augustus  as  a  grandson-in-law 
would  sting  her  fine  senses  unbearably.  He  blus- 
ters continually,  and  his  airs  of  proprietorship 
envers  moi  would  irritate  her;  besides,  she  would 
always  have  the  idea  that  she  is  cheating  me  by 
remaining  alive,  that,  after  all,  my  marriage  was 
not  a  necessity  if  she  is  still  there  to  keep  me. 
Oh,  dear  grandmamma!  if  I  could  save  you  a 
moment's  sorrow  you  know  I  would.  When  I 
said  good-bye  to  her  she  held  me  close  and  kissed 
me.  "  Ambrosine/'  she  said,  "  I  shall  have  start- 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

ed  upon  my  journey  before  you  come  back;  you 
must  not  grieve  or  be  sad.  My  last  advice  to  you, 
my  child,  is  to  remember  life  is  full  of  compensa- 
tions, as  you  will  find.  Try  to  see  the  bright 
and  gay  side  of  things,  and,  above  all,  do  not 
be  dramatic/' 

She  was  always  cheerful,  grandmamma,  but 
if  I  could  just  see  her  again  to  tell  her  I  will,  in- 
deed I  will,  try  to  follow  her  advice !  Hush !  here 
is  Augustus;  I  hear  his  clumsy  footsteps.  He 
has  a  telegram. 

Alas !  alas !  My  fears  are  true — grandmamma 
died  this  morning.  Oh !  I  cannot  write,  the  tears 
make  everything  a  mist. 

It  is  late  July  and  I  am  at  Ledstone  as  its 
nominal  mistress — I  say  nominal,  for  Augustus's 
mother  reigns,  as  she  always  did. 

The  sorrow  of  grandmamma's  death,  the  feel- 
ing that  nothing  can  matter  in  the  world  now, 
has  kept  me  from  caring  or  asserting  myself  in 
any  way.  I  feel  numb.  I  seem  to  be  a  person 
listening  from  some  gallery  when  they  all  speak 
around  me,  and  that  the  Ambrosine  who  answers 
placidly  is  an  automaton  who  moves  by  clock- 
work. 

Shall  I  ever  wake  again?  I  sit  night  after 
night  in  my  mother-in-law's  "budwar,"  the  crim- 
son-satin chairs  staring  at  me,  the  wedding-cake 
ornament  with  its  silver  leaves  glittering  in  the 
electric  light;  I  sit  there  listening  vaguely  to  her 

77 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

admonitions  and  endless  prattle  of  Augustus's 
perfections.  I  have  now  heard  every  incident 
of  his  childhood:  what  ailments  he  had,  what 
medicines  suited  him  best,  when  he  cut  all  those 
superfluous  teeth  of  his. 

One  little  trait  appears  to  have  been  considered 
a  sign  of  great  astuteness  and  infantine  per- 
ception. His  fond  parents — the  late  Mr.  Gurrage 
was  alive  then  —  gave  him  a  new  threepenny 
bit  each  week  to  give  to  a  barrel-organ  man 
who  played  before  the  house  at  Bournemouth. 
Augustus  at  the  age  of  two  invariably  changed 
it  on  the  stairs  with  the  butler  for  two  pennies 
and  two  halfpennies,  keeping  one  penny  half- 
penny for  himself. 

"Me  dear" — my  mother-in-law  always  com- 
pletes this  story  with  this  sentence — "Mr.  Gur- 
rage said  to  me,  'Mark  my  word,  Mary  Jane, 
the  boy  will  get  on!"' 

In  the  class  of  my  belle  famille,  mourning  is 
fortunately  a  matter  of  such  importance  that  the 
wearing  of  cr£pe  for  grandmamma  has  been 
allowed  to  be  sufficient  reason  for  abandoning 
the  wedding  rejoicings. 

Dear  grandmamma!  it  would  please  you  to 
know  your  death  had  done  me  even  this  service. 
I  am  encouraged  to  grieve,  especially  in  public. 
Mrs.  Gurrage  herself  put  on  black,  and  her  face 
beamed  all  over  with  enjoyable  tears  the  first 
Sunday  we  rustled  into  the  family  pew  stiff  with 
cr£pe  and  hangings  of  woe.  They  gave  grand- 

78 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

mamma  what  Miss  Hoad  —  I  mean  Amelia — 
called  a  "proper  funeral." 

And  so  all  is  done  —  even  the  Marquis  has 
gone  back  to  France,  and  only  Roy  is  left. 

There  is  something  in  his  brown  eyes  of  sym- 
pathy which  I  cannot  bear;  the  lump  keeps  com- 
ing in  my  throat.  Kind  dog,  you  are  my  friend. 

Next  week  Lady  Tilchester  will  have  returned 
to  Harley,  and  soon  Augustus  and  I  are  to  go 
and  pay  a  three  days'  visit  there. 

Once  what  joy  this  thought  would  have  caused 
me — I  was  going  to  say  when  I  was  young! — I 
shall  be  twenty  next  October,  but  I  feel  as  if  I 
must  be  at  least  fifty  years  old. 

Augustus  is  not  a  gay  companion.  He  has  a 
sulky  temper;  he  is  often  offended  with  me  for 
no  reason,  and  then  a  day  or  so  afterwards  will 
be  horribly  affectionate,  and  give  me  a  present 
to  make  up  for  it.  I  can  never  get  accustomed  to 
his  calling  me  Ambrosine — it  always  jars,  as  if 
one  suddenly  heard  a  shopman  taking  this  liberty. 
It  is  equally  unpleasant  as  "little  woman"  or 
"dearie,"  both  of  which  besprinkle  all  his  sen- 
tences. He  has  not  a  mind  that  makes  it  pos- 
sible to  have  any  conversation  with  him.  He 
told  me  to-day  that  I  was  the  stupidest  cold  statue 
of  a  woman  he  had  ever  met,  and  then  he  shook 
me  until  I  felt  giddy,  and  kissed  me  until  I  could 
not  see.  After  a  scene  of  this  kind  I  feel  too  limp 
to  move.  I  creep  out  into  the  garden  and  hide 
with  Roy  in  a  clump  of  laurel  bushes,  where  there 

79 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

is  a  neglected  sun-dial  that  was  once  the  centre 
of  the  old  garden,  and  left  there  when  the  new 
shrubbery  was  planted;  there  is  about  six  feet 
bare  space  around  it,  and  no  one  ever  comes 
there,  so  I  am  safe. 

Sometimes  from  my  hiding-place  I  hear  Au- 
gustus calling  me,  but  I  never  answer,  and  yes- 
terday I  caught  sight  of  him  through  the  bush- 
es biting  his  nails  with  annoyance;  he  could  not 
think  where  I  had  disappeared  to.  It  comforted 
me  to  sit  there  and  make  faces  at  him  like  a 
gutter-child. 

I  have  never  had  the  courage  to  go  back  to  the 
cottage.  It  is  just  as  it  was,  with  all  grandmam- 
ma's dear  old  things  in  it,  waiting  for  me  to 
decide  where  I  will  have  them  put.  Hephzibah 
has  married  her  grocer's  man,  and  lives  there  as 
caretaker. 

I  suppose  some  day  I  shall  have  to  go  down 
and  settle  things,  but  I  feel  as  if  it  would  be  des- 
ecration to  bring  the  Sevres  and  miniatures  and 
the  Louis  XV.  berg&re  here  to  hobnob  with  the 
new  productions  from  Tottenham  Court  Road. 

Augustus  is  having  some  rooms  arranged  for 
me,  so  that  I,  LOO,  shall  have  a  "budwar"  for 
myself.  He  has  not  consulted  my  taste;  it  is  all 
to  be  a  surprise.  And  an  army  of  workmen  are 
still  in  the  house,  and  I  have  caught  glimpses 
of  brilliant,  new,  gilt  chairs  and  terra-cotta  and 
buffish  brocade  (I  loathe  those  colors)  being 
carried  up. 

80 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"  Then  I'll  be  able  to  have  you  more  to  myself 
in  the  evening/'  said  Augustus.  "The  drawing- 
rooms  are  too  big  and  the  mater's  bud  war  is  too 
small,  and  you  hate  my  den,  so  I  hope  this  will 
please  you." 

I  said  "Thank  you/'  without  enthusiasm.  I 
would  prefer  the  company  of  my  mother-in-law 
or  Amelia  to  being  more  alone  with  Augustus. 
The  crimson  -  satin  chairs  are  so  uncomfortable 
that  now  he  leaves  us  almost  directly  after  dinner 
to  lounge  in  his  "den,"  and  I  have  to  go  there 
and  say  good-night  to  him.  The  place  smells 
of  stale  smoke,  some  particularly  strong,  common 
tobacco  he  will  have  in  a  pipe.  He  gets  into  a 
soiled,  old,  blue  smoking  -  coat,  and  sits  there 
reading  the  comic  papers,  huddled  in  a  deep 
arm-chair,  a  whiskey-and-soda  mixed  ready  by 
his  side.  He  is  generally  half -asleep  when 
I  get  there.  I  do  not  stay  five  minutes  if  I 
can  help  it;  it  is  not  agreeable,  the  smell  of 
whiskey. 

There  are  so  few  books  in  the  house.  The 
f*-st  instalment  of  my  handsome  "allowance" 
will  soon  be  paid  me,  and  then  I  will  have  books 
of  my  own.  I  shall  feel  like  a  servant  receiving 
the  first  month's  wages  in  a  new  place — a  mis- 
erable beginner  of  a  servant  who  has  never  been 
"out"  before.  I  feel  I  have  earned  them,  though 
— earned  them  with  hard  work. 

Just  this  last  month  numbers  of  people  have 
been  to  call  on  me.  They  left  only  cards  at  first, 

6  8l 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

because  of  my  "sad  loss/'  but  we  often  are  at 
home  now  when  they  come. 

My  mother-in-law's  visiting-list  is  a  large  one, 
and  comprises  the  whole  of  the  "villa"  people 
from  Tilchester  as  well  as  the  county  families. 
With  the  former  she  is  deliciously  patronizingly 
friendly;  they  are  all  "me  dears/'  and  they  talk 
about  their  servants  and  ailments  and  babies, 
mixed  with  the  doings  of  Lady  Tilchester — they 
always  speak  of  her  as  the  "Marchioness  of 
Tilchester."  They  are  at  home  when  we  return 
the  visits  sometimes,  too,  and  this  kind  of  thing 
happens :  our  gorgeous  prune  -  and  -  scarlet  foot- 
man condescendingly  walks  up  their  paths  and 
thumps  loudly  at  their  well-cleaned  brass  knocker, 
and  presses  their  electric  bell.  A  jaunty  lump 
of  a  parlor-maid  in  a  fluster  at  the  sight  of  so 
much  grandeur  says  "At  home"  (some  of  them 
have  "days"),  and  we  are  ushered  into  a  narrow 
hall  and  so  to  a  drawing-room.  They  seem 
always  to  be  papered  with  buff-and-mustard 
papers  and  to  have  "pongee"  sofa-cushions  with 
frills.  There  is  often  tennis  going  on  on  the 
neat  lawn  beyond,  and  we  see  visions  of  large, 
pink-faced  girls  and  callow  youths  taking  exer- 
cise. The  hostess  gushes  at  us:  "Dear  Mrs. 
Gurrage,  so  good  of  you  to  come— and  this  is 
Mrs.  Gussie?"  (Yes,  I  am  called  Mrs.  Gussie. 
Oh!  grandmamma,  do  you  hear?)  We  sit 
down. 

I  have  no  intention  of  freezing  people,  but  they 
82 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

are  hideously  ill  at  ease  with  me,  and  say  all 
kinds  of  foolishnesses  from  sheer  nervousness. 

The  worst  happened  last  week,  when  one  par- 
ticularly motherly,  blooming  solicitor's  wife,  after 
recounting  to  us  in  full  detail  the  arrival  of  her 
first  grandchild,  hoped  Mrs.  Gurrage  would  soon 
be  in  her  happy  position! 

Merciful  Providence,  I  pray — that — never! 

The  county  people  are  not  so  often  at  home, 
but  when  they  are  it  is  hardly  more  interesting. 
There  do  not  seem  to  be  many  attractive  people 
among  them.  They  are  stiff,  and  it  is  my  mother- 
in-law  who  is  sometimes  ill  at  ease,  though  she 
gushes  and  blusters  as  usual.  The  conversation 
here  is  of  societies,  the  Girls'  Friendly  Society, 
the  Cottage  Hospital,  the  movements  of  the 
Church,  the  continuance  of  the  war,  the  fear  the 
rest  of  the  Tilchester  Yeomanry  will  volunteer; 
and  now  and  then  the  hostess  warms  up,  if  there 
is  a  question  of  a  subscription,  to  her  own  pet 
hobby.  Their  houses  are  for  the  most  part  taste- 
less, too;  they  seem  to  live  in  a  respectable  bornG 
world  of  daily  duties  and  sleep.  Of  the  three 
really  big  houses  within  driving  distance,  one  is 
shut  up,  one  is  inhabited  for  a  month  or  two  in 
the  autumn,  and  the  third  is  let  to  a  successful 
oil  merchant  to  whom  Augustus  and  my  mother- 
in-law  have  a  great  objection,  but  I  can  see  no 
difference  between  oil  and  carpets.  I  have  seen 
the  man,  and  he  is  a  weazly  looking  little  rat 
who  drives  good  horses. 

83 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  wonder  what  has  become  of  my  kinsman, 
Antony  Thornhirst.  He  came  with  Lady  Til- 
chester  to  the  wedding.  I  saw  his  strange  eyes 
looking  at  me  as  I  walked  down  the  aisle  on 
Augustus's  arm.  His  face  was  the  only  one  I 
realized  in  the  crowd.  We  did  not  speak;  indeed, 
he  never  was  near  me  afterwards  until  I  got  into 
the  carriage.  I  wonder  if  he  will  be  at  Harley — 
I  wonder! 

Augustus  wishes  me  to  be  "very  smart"  for 
this  visit;  he  tells  me  I  am  to  take  all  my  best 
clothes  and  "cut  the  others  out/'  It  really 
grieves  him  that  my  garments  should  be  black. 
He  suggested  to  his  mother  that  she  had  better 
lend  me  some  of  the  "family  jewels"  to  aug- 
ment my  own  large  store,  but  fortunately  Mrs. 
Gurrage  is  of  a  tenacious  disposition  and  likes 
to  keep  her  own  belongings  to  herself,  so  I  shall 
be  spared  the  experience  of  the  park-paling  tiara 
sitting  upon  my  brow.  Such  things  being  unsuit- 
able to  be  worn  at  dinner  I  fear  would  have 
little  influence  upon  Augustus;  I  am  trembling 
even  now  at  what  I  may  be  forced  to  glitter  in. 

We  are  to  drive  over  to  Harley  late  in  the 
afternoon 


n 


IN  spite  of  Augustus — in  spite  of  everything — I 
suddenly  feel  as  if  I  had  become  alive  again  here 
at  Harley! 

The  whole  place  pleases  me.  It  is  an  old 
Georgian  house,  with  long  wings  stretching 
right  and  left,  and  from  a  large  salon  in  the 
centre  the  other  reception-rooms  open. 

Lady  Tilchester  is  so  kind,  and  makes  one  feel 
perfectly  at  home.  A  number  of  people  were  as- 
sembled upon  the  croquet  lawn  and  in  the  great 
tent  playing  bridge  when  we  arrived,  and  as  no 
one  seems  to  introduce  any  one  it  has  taken 
me  two  whole  days  to  find  out  people's  names. 
Some  of  them,  indeed,  I  have  not  grasped  yet! 
It  does  seem  a  strange  custom.  Either  it  is  be- 
cause every  one  in  this  set  is  supposed  to  be 
acquainted  with  the  other,  and  strangers  are 
things  that  do  not  count,  or  that  meeting  under 
one  roof  constitutes  an  introduction.  I  have  not 
yet  found  out  which  it  is. 

Anyway,  it  makes  things  dull  at  first.  Augus- 
tus found  it  "deuced  unpleasant/'  he  told  me, 
as,  instead  of  remaining  quiet  until  he  knew  his 
ground,  he  proceeded  to  commit  a  series  of  b&ises. 

85 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

The  first  afternoon  I  subsided  into  a  low  chair, 
and  a  gruff-looking  man  handed  me  some  tea, 
and  patted  and  talked  to  a  bob-tailed  sheep-dog 
that  was  near. 

I  don't  know  if  he  expected  me  to  answer  for 
the  dog,  and  so  make  a  conversation.  He  was 
disappointed,  however,  if  so,  as  I  remained  silent. 
Presently  I  discovered  he  was  our  host. 

Lady  Tilchester  was  busy  being  gushed  at 
by  Augustus.  A  little  woman  with  light  hair 
came  and  sat  down  at  the  other  side  of  me. 
She  looks  like  a  young,  fluffy  chicken,  and  has  a 
lisp  and  an  infantile  voice,  and  wears  numbers 
of  trinkets,  and  her  name,  "  Babykins,"  spelled  in 
a  brooch  of  diamonds.  I  should  not  like  to  be 
called  "  Baby  kins/'  and  I  wonder  why  one  should 
want  strangers  to  read  one's  name  printed  upon 
one's  chest. 

Everything  of  hers  is  marked  with  that.  Chain 
bracelets  with  "Baby kins"  in  sapphires  and  dia- 
monds. On  her  handkerchief,  which  she  plays 
with,  "Baby kins "  again  stares  at  you.  Even 
the  corner  of  her  chemise,  which  shows  through 
her  transparent  blouse,  has  "Babykins"  em- 
broidered on  it.  It  is  no  wonder  even  the  young 
men  never  call  her  anything  else. 

You  have  the  first  impression  that  you  are 
talking  to  a  child,  but  afterwards  you  are  sur- 
prised to  find  what  a  lot  of  grown-up,  scandalous 
things  she  has  said 

She  was  very  agreeable  to  me,  and  gave  me 
86 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

to  understand  she  was  so  interested  to  make 
my  acquaintance,  as  Lady  Tilchester  had  told 
her  so  much  about  me. 

"You  come  from  Yorkshire,  don't  you?"  she 
said;  "and  your  husband  has  that  wonderful 
breed  of  black  pigs,  hasn't  he?" 

"No,"  I  said,  "we  live  only  sixteen  miles  off." 

"  Oh,  of  course !  How  stupid  of  me !  You  are 
quite  another  person,  I  see,"  and  she  laughed. 
"But  the  pig  farmers  are  coming,  and  I  am  so 
anxious  to  meet  them,  as  I  have  a  perfect  mania 
for  piglets  myself.  I  want  to  start  a  new  sort, 
and  I  hoped  you  could  tell  me  about  them." 

"I  am  so  sorry,"  I  said.  "I  wish  I  could 
help  you,  but  I  do  not  believe— except  casually 
in  the  village — that  I  have  ever  seen  a  pig ;  they 
must  be  delightful  companions." 

"  Yes,  indeed !  I  have  large  families  of  the  fat 
white  ones,  and  really  the  babies  are  most  engag- 
ing, and  the  very  image  of  my  step-children.  I 
always  tell  my  husband  it  seems  like  eating 
Alice  or  Laura  when  he  insists  upon  having 
suckling-pig  for  luncheon.  I  suppose  one  would 
not  mind  eating  one's  step  -  children,  though — 
would  one?  What  do  you  think?" 

Her  great,  blue  eyes  looked  at  me  pathetically. 

I  tried  to  consider  seriously  the  problem  of  the 
consumption  of  possible  step-children;  it  was  too 
difficult  for  me. 

"I  quite  hoped  to  make  it  pay,"  she  continued 
— "  keeping  prize  pigs,  I  mean;  we  are  so  fright- 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

fully  poor.    But  I  am  away  so  much  I  fear  it  does 
not  do  very  well.     You  play  bridge,  of  course?" 

This  did  not  seem  to  have  much  to  do  with 
the  pigs. 

"No,  I  do  not  play." 

"You  don't  play  bridge?  How  on  earth  do 
you  get  through  the  day?" 

"I  really  do  not  know/' 

"  Oh,  you  must  learn  at  once.  I  can  give  you 
the  address  of  a  woman  in  London  who  goes  out 
for  five  pounds  an  afternoon  and  who  would  teach 
you  in  three  or  four  lessons.  It  does  seem  funny, 
your  not  playing." 

I  said  "Yes." 

She  did  not  appear  to  want  many  answers  from 
me  after  this,  but  prattled  on  about  people  and 
the  world  in  general,  and  before  half  an  hour 
was  over  I  was  left  with  the  impression  that 
society  is  chiefly  composed  of  people  living  upon 
an  agreeable  and  amusing  ground  somewhere 
at  the  borderland  of  the  divorce  court. 

"So  tiresome  of  the  husbands!"  she  concluded. 
"  Before  the  war  they  used  to  be  the  most  docile 
creatures ;  as  long  as  they  got  a  percentage,  and 
the  wives  did  not  worry  at  their  own  little  affairs, 
all  went  smoothly.  Now,  since  going  out  there 
and  fighting,  they  have  come  back  giving  them- 
selves great  airs,  and  talking  about  wounded 
honor,  and  ridiculous  things  of  that  sort  that 
one  reads  of  in  early  Victorian  books.  One  does 
not  know  where  it  will  end." 

88 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

She  yawned  a  little  after  this,  and  Lord  Til- 
chester  shuffled  up  and  sat  down  in  the  corner 
of  the  sofa  near  her.  He  has  the  manner  of  an 
awkward  school-boy. 

"  You  are  taking  away  every  one's  character, 
as  usual,  I  suppose,  Baby  kins/'  he  chuckled. 
"What  will  Mrs.  Gurrage  think  of  it  all,  I  won- 
der?" 

Lady  Tilchester  interrupted  further  conversa- 
tion by  carrying  me  off  to  see  the  garden.  She 
is  the  most  fascinating  personality  I  have  yet 
met.  There  is  something  like  the  sun's  rays 
about  her — you  feel  warmed  and  comforted  when 
she  is  near.  She  looks  so  great  and  noble,  and 
above  all  common  things,  one  cannot  help  won- 
dering why  she  married  Lord  Tilchester,  who 
is  quite  ordinary.  When  she  talks,  every  one 
listens.  Her  voice  is  like  golden  bells,  and  she 
never  says  stupid  things  that  mean  nothing. 
We  had  half  an  hour  in  the  glorious  garden, 
and  she  made  me  feel  that  life  was  a  fair  thing, 
and  that  even  I  should  find  bits  to  smile  over. 
How  great  to  have  a  nature  like  this,  that 
one's  very  presence  does  good  to  other  human 
beings ! 

"  There  are  a  lot  of  tiresome  people  here,  I  am 
afraid,"  she  said,  at  last;  "but  I  wanted  you  to 
come  to  the  first  party  we  had  after  our  return, 
so  you  must  try  and  not  be  bored.  You  shall 
sit  next  Mr.  Budge  to-night;  he  will  be  obliged 
to  take  in  Lady  Lambourne,  but  I  will  put  you 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

on  the  other  side.     He  will  amuse  you ;  he  is  the 
cleverest  man  I  know." 

"Mr.  Budge  is  a  politician,  is  he  not?"  I  asked. 
"I  think  I  have  heard  his  name." 

"  That  is  delightful, "  she  laughed.  "  Poor  Mr 
Budge !  He — and,  indeed,  many  of  us  in  England 
— fancies  there  is  no  other  name  to  be  heard.  He 
has  a  fault,  though.  He  writes  sentimental  poetry 
which  is  complete  rubbish,  and  he  prides  himself 
upon  it  far  more  than  upon  his  splendid  powers 
of  oratory  or  wonderful  organization  capacities." 

"  What  a  strange  side  for  a  great  man  to  have ! " 
I  said.  "Sentimental  poetry — it  seems  so  child- 
ish, does  it  not?" 

"We  all  have  our  weaknesses,  I  suppose," 
and  she  smiled.  "  We  should  be  very  dull  if  we 
left  nothing  for  our  friends  to  criticise." 

"Si  nous  riavions  point  de  dtfauts  nous  ne 
prendrions  pas  tant  de  plaisir  ft,  en  remarquer 
dans  les  autres !"  I  quoted. 

After  a  while  we  went  back  to  the  house. 

Augustus  and  I  got  down  at  half-past  eight 
for  dinner,  as  grandmamma  had  always  told 
me  that  punctuality  is  a  part  of  politeness,  but 
only  one  or  two  men  were  standing  by  the  huge 
wood -fire  that  burns  all  the  time  in  the  open 
fireplace  in  the  salon  where  we  assembled. 

We  did  not  know  any  of  their  names,  and  I 
suppose  they  did  not  know  ours.  We  stared 
at  one  another,  and  they  went  on  talking  again, 
all  about  the  war.  Augustus  joined  in.  He 

90 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

is  dreadfully  uneasy  in  case  the  rest  of  the  Til- 
chester  Yeomanry  may  volunteer  at  last  to  go 
out,  and  was  anxious  to  hear  their  views  of 
the  possibility.  I  sat  down  upon  a  fat-pillowed 
sofa,  one  of  those  nice  kind  that  puff  out  again 
slowly  when  you  get  up,  and  make  you  feel 
at  rest  any  way  you  sit. 

A  short  man  with  a  funny  face  came  and 
sat  beside  me. 

"What  a  wonderful  lady,  to  be  so  punctual!" 
he  said.  "  You  evidently  don't  know  the  house. 
We  shall  be  lucky  if  we  get  dinner  at  nine 
o'clock." 

"Why  did  you  come  down,  then,"  I  asked, 
"since  you  are  acquainted  with  the  ways?" 

"On  the  off  chance,  and  because  a  bad  habit 
of  youth  sticks  to  me,  and  I  can't  help  being 
on  time," 

"I  am  finding  it  absurd  to  have  acquired 
habits  in  youth;  they  are  all  being  upset,"  I 
said. 

He  had  such  a  cheery  face,  in  spite  of  being 
so  ugly,  it  seemed  quite  easy  to  talk  to  him. 
We  chatted  lightly  until  some  one  called  out: 
"Billy,  do  ring  and  ask  if  we  can  have  a  bis- 
cuit and  a  glass  of  sherry,  to  keep  us  up  until 
we  get  dinner." 

At  that  moment — it  was  nearly  nine — more 
people  strolled  in,  two  women  with  their  hus- 
bands, and  several  odd  pairs — the  last  among 
the  single  people  quite  the  loveliest  creature  I 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

have  ever  seen.  She  does  not  know  how  to 
walk,  and  her  lips  were  almost  magenta  with 
some  stuff  on  them,  but  her  eyes  flashed  round 
at  every  one,  and  there  seemed  to  be  a  flutter 
among  the  men  by  the  fireplace. 

Augustus  dropped  his  jaw  with  admiration. 
She  had  on  a  bright  purple  dress  and  numbers 
of  jewels.  I  feel  sure  he  was  saying  to  himself 
that  she  was  a  "stunner."  She  did  not  look 
at  all  vulgar,  however,  only  wicked  and  attrac- 
tive and  delightful. 

"Darling  Letitia,"  she  pleaded,  to  a  stiff-look- 
ing old  woman  sitting  bolt -upright  under  a 
lamp,  "don't  glare  at  me  so.  I  am  not  the  last 
to-night;  there  are  still  Baby  kins  and  Mar- 
garet and  several  others  to  come/' 

"Oh,  Lord,  how  hungry  I  am!"  announced 
Mr.  Budge,  in  a  loud  voice.  I  recognized  him 
now  from  his  picture  being  so  often  in  the 
papers. 

Then,  from  a  door  at  the  other  end,  in  tripped 
Babykins,  and  close  behind  her  Lord  Tilches- 
ter,  and,  last  of  all,  when  the  clock  had  struck 
nine -fifteen,  and  even  the  funny -faced  man 
next  me  had  exhausted  all  his  conversation, 
the  door  at  the  north  end  of  the  salon  opened, 
and  serenely,  like  a  lovely  ship,  our  beautiful 
hostess  sailed  towards  us. 

"So  sorry  to  be  a  little  late,"  she  said,  calmly. 
"  Tilchester,  as  you  have,  of  course,  told  every  one 
whom  they  are  to  take  in,  we  may  as  well  start/' 

92 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Lord  Tilchester  had  been  sitting  in  the  win- 
dow-seat with  Babykins,  and  had  completely 
forgotten  this  duty,  I  suppose.  He  got  up  guilt- 
ily and  fumbled  for  a  paper  in  his  pocket. 

"  Oh,  don't  let  us  wait  for  that,"  said  Mr.  Budge, 
gruffly.  "Come,  Lady  Tilchester,  I  shall  take 
you  and  lead  the  way,"  and  he  gave  her  his  arm. 

She  laughed  and  took  it. 

"Very  well/'  she  said. 

Every  one  scrambled  for  the  people  they  want- 
ed or  knew  best;  and  so  it  happened  that  I 
found  myself  standing  staring  at  a  pale  young 
man  with  weak  blue  eyes  and  a  wonderfully 
well-tied  tie,  the  last  of  the  company. 

He  held  out  his  arm  nervously,  and  we  finally 
got  to  the  dining-room  and  found  two  seats. 

It  was  not  until  dinner  was  almost  over  that 
I  found  out  he  was  the  Duke  of  Myrlshire,  and 
ought  to  have  taken  in  Lady  Tilchester. 

Augustus  had  placed  himself  next  the  purple 
lady,  and  his  face  grew  a  gray  mauve  with  ex- 
citement at  her  gracious  glances. 

My  ducal  partner  was  unattractive.  He  had  a 
squeaky  voice  and  a  nervous  manner,  but  said 
some  entreprenant  things  in  a  way  which  made 
me  understand  he  is  accustomed  to  be  listened 
to  with  patience,  not  to  say  pleasure. 

He  told  me  he  was  grateful  to  Mr.  Budge  for 
his  move,  as  he  had  been  admiring  me  since 
the  moment  we  arrived,  and  had  determined, 
directly  the  m§lee  began,  to  secure  me  if  possible. 

93 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"Er— you  don't  look  like  an  Englishwoman/' 
he  said,  "and  it  is  a  nice  change.  My  eye  is 
wearied  with  them;  their  outlines  are  all  exactly 
alike/' 

He  further  informed  me  that  Paris  was  the 
only  place  to  live  in,  and  that  the  English  as  a 
nation  were  crude  in  their  vices. 

"They  make  such  a  noise  about  everything 
here/'  he  added.  "One  cannot  do  a  thing  that 
it  is  not  put  the  wrong  way  up  in  the  halfpenny 
papers/' 

"The  penalty  of  greatness/'  I  said,  laughing. 
"  They  don't  worry  at  all,  for  instance,  about  what 
I  am  doing." 

"Then  they  show  extremely  bad  taste/'  he 
said,  with  a  look  of  frank  admiration. 

Before  the  women  swept  in  a  body  from  the 
room,  I  understood  that  his  object  in  life  would 
henceforth  be  to  make  me  sensible  of  his  great 
worth  and  charm.  All  these  masterful,  forward 
sentiments  sounded  so  comic,  expressing  them- 
selves in  his  squeaky  voice,  I  could  not  help 
smiling.  He  became  radiant.  He  did  not  guess 
in  the  least  what  amused  me. 

Although  the  salon  is  immense,  the  ten  or 
twelve  women  all  crowded  around  the  fireplace. 
It  was  a  damp,  chilly  evening. 

They  all  seemed  to  know  one  another  very 
well,  and  called  each  other  by  their  Christian 
names,  so  until  Babykins  again  gave  me  some 
information  I  did  not  realize  who  people  were. 

94 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

The  purple  lady  is  Lady  Grenellen ;  her  hus- 
band is  at  the  war.  She  is  most  attractive. 
She  sat  on  a  big  sofa  and  smoked  cigarettes 
rapidly  in  a  little  amber  holder.  She  must 
have  got  through  at  least  three  or  four  of  them 
before  the  men  came  in. 

Lady  Tilchester  and  two  other  women  were  deep 
in  South  -  African  news,  the  rest  talked  about 
books  and  their  clothes,  but  Baby  kins  and  Letitia 
exchanged  views  upon  the  scandal  of  the  time. 

"In  my  day/'  Letitia  said,  "it  sometimes 
happened  that  men  made  love  and  ran  away 
with  a  woman  because  they  found  they  liked 
her  better  than  anything  else  in  the  world.  It 
was  a  great  sin,  but  their  passion  was  mixed 
with  respect,  and  the  elopement  constituted  the 
wedding  ceremony.  Now  you  remain  on  at 
home  until  you  are  found  out,  and  then  the  hus- 
band takes  a  gratuity  and  the  matter  is  hushed 
up,  and  probably  the  lover  passes  on  to  your 
best  friend,  an  added  feather  in  his  cap." 

"  Dear  Lady  Lambourne,  how  severe  you  are!" 
chirped  Baby  kins.  "  And  you  really  should  not 
use  that  little  word  '  you. '  Of  course,  you  don't 
mean  any  of  us,  but  it  sounds  unkind  and  might 
be  misunderstood — especially,"  she  added,  in  a 
whisper  to  me,  "as  that  is*  the  exact  case  of 
Cordelia  Grenellen." 

Letitia  (Lady  Lambourne)  has  a  distinct 
voice  and  decided  opinions.  She  continued,  as 
though  no  interruption  had  taken  place: 

95 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"  If  the  matter  was  only  for  love,  too,  I  should 
still  have  nothing  to  say;  but  it  is  so  often 
for  a  string  of  pearls,  or  some  new  carriage- 
horses/' 

"But,  surely,  it  is  more  logical  to  have  that 
reason  than  no  reason  at  all,  like  the  case  of 
your  poor  cousin.  I  understood  that  was  sheer 
foolishness,  and  Lord  Edam  did  not  even  pretend 
to  care  for  her/' 

Lady  Lambourne  looked  daggers  and  re- 
mained speechless.  "What  scandalous  things 
you  are  all  saying,"  laughed  Lady  Grenellen 
from  her  sofa.  "Letitia,  you  are  sitting  there 
and  being  epigrammatic,  just  like  the  people  in 
those  unreal  society  plays  they  had  last  year. 
We  are  all  perfectly  contented  and  happy  if  you 
would  let  us  alone." 

"One  cannot  but  deplore  the  change/'  said 
Lady  Lambourne. 

"Personally,  I  am  delighted  with  everything 
as  it  is,"  cooed  Baby  kins.  "Life  must  be  much 
pleasanter  now  than  in  your  day,  dear  Lady 
Lambourne;  such  a  fuss  and  pretending,  and 
such  hypocrites  you  must  all  have  been — as,  of 
course,  human  nature  was  the  same  then,  and 
since  the  beginning  of  time.  We  have  always 
eaten  and  drank  too  rich  food  and  wine  in  our 
class  and  have  not  had  enough  to  do,  so  we 
can't  help  being  as  we  are,  can  we?" 

"Baby kins,  you  silly  darling,  as  if  what  we 
eat  makes  any  difference!"  said  Lady  Grenellen, 

96 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

puffing  her  cigarette -smoke  into  cloudy  rings 
in  the  neatest  way. 

"  Of  course  it  does,  Cordelia !  Food  makes  all 
the  difference,  you  know.  I  have  kept  those  white 
pigs  for  four  years  and  I  know  all  about  it." 

Babykins  has  the  most  pathetic  blue  eyes,  and 
her  childish  voice  is  arresting.  Lady  Grenellen 
went  into  a  fit  of  laughter. 

"You  are  perfectly  mad  about  those  horrid 
pigs!"  she  told  her. 

Lady  Lambourne  interrupted  again,  in  a  dig- 
nified voice.  "  Human  nature  was  not  the  same 
in  my  day — as  you  call  it — Mrs.  Parton-Mills  " 
(thus  she  discovered  to  me  Babykins'  name). 
"We  lived  much  more  simply,  and  enjoyed  our 
pleasures  and  did  our  duties,  and  stayed  at  home 


more/' 


"And  I  expect  you  were  frightfully  bored, 
Letitia,  darling,"  said  Lady  Grenellen,  "and 
that  is  why  you  never  stay  at  home  now." 

It  seemed  to  me  quite  wonderful  how  they 
could  be  so  disrespectful  to  this  elderly  lady, 
but  she  did  not  seem  at  all  offended. 

"You  are  incorrigible,  Cordelia,"  was  all  she 
said,  and  she  laughed. 

"You  had  no  bridge,  and  it  must  have  been 
exactly  like  it  still  is  when  I  stay  with  Edward's 
relations  in  Scotland,"  Babykins  continued. 
"As  we  arrive  there  I  feel  'goose-flesh'  on  my 
arms,  with  the  stiffness  and  decorum  of  every- 
thing. We  chat  about  the  weather  at  tea,  and 
7  97 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

no  one  ever  says  a  word  they  really  think;  and 
we  play  idiotic,  childish  games  of  cards  for  love 
in  the  evening;  and  it  is  all  feeble  and  weari- 
some, and  the  guests  are  always  looking  at  the 
clock." 

Lady  Tilchester  came  and  joined  us;  it  seemed 
like  a  breath  of  fresh  sunlight  illuminating  the 
scene. 

"You  appear  all  to  be  talking  scandal/'  she 
said. 

Imperceptibly  the  conversation  changed,  and 
we  were  discussing  the  war  news  when  the 
double  doors  of  the  dining-room  opened. 

Augustus  looked  very  flushed  in  the  face  and 
unattractive  as  he  came  towards  us,  but  Lady 
Grenellen  moved  her  skirts  and  made  room  for 
him  on  her  sofa.  She  smiled  at  him  divinely, 
and  was  perfectly  lovely  to  him  —  as  friendly 
and  caressing  as  if  he  were  an  equal.  It  per- 
fectly astonished  me.  I  could  not  talk  and  joke 
familiarly  like  that  with  Augustus  any  more 
than  if  he  were  one  of  the  footmen.  And  she 
is  a  viscountess,  and  must  at  least  know  what 
a  gentleman  is. 

Half  the  party  moved  off  to  play  bridge  in 
one  of  the  drawing-rooms;  the  rest  arranged 
themselves  comfortably,  two  and  two.  Lady 
Tilchester  and  Mr.  Budge  wandered  into  the 
music-room,  and  I,  who  had  not  stirred,  found 
myself  almost  alone  by  the  fireplace  with  the 
Duke. 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

He  proceeded  to  say  a  number  of  things  to 
me  that  astonished  me  greatly.  I  should  not 
have  understood  them  all  had  I  not  been  to  those 
plays  in  Paris. 

I  suppose  he  was  beginning  to  make  love 
to  me  —  if  this  is  what  is  called  making  love. 
His  personality  is  not  attractive,  so  it  did  not 
touch  me  at  all,  and  I  am  only  able  to  look  upon 
men  now  through  eyes  which  see  coarse  brutes. 
Perhaps  they  may  be  really  nice,  some  of  them, 
but  as  I  look  at  them  one  after  another,  the 
thought  always  comes,  how  revolting  could  they 
appear  in  the  eyes  of  their  wives?  This  is  not 
nice  of  me,  and  I  am  sure  grandmamma  would 
reprove  me  for  it. 


Ill 


NEXT  day,  Sunday,  some  of  us  went  to  church. 
Augustus  insisted  upon  my  going.  He  thought 
it  would  be  a  good  opportunity  of  showing  I  was 
in  Lady  Tilchester's  company,  although  what  it 
could  have  mattered  to  the  Harley  villagers  I  do 
not  know. 

He  himself  stayed  behind  with  Lady  Gren- 
ellen,  he  said,  to  take  her  for  a  walk  in  the  woods. 

After  lunch  every  one  seemed  to  play  bridge 
but  Lady  Tilchester  and  I  and  her  politician 
and  the  weak-eyed  Duke.  We  climbed  the  hill 
to  the  ruins  of  the  old  castle  and  there  sat  until 
tea-time. 

"Isn't  it  a  bore  for  me  that  I  shall  have  to 
marry  an  heiress?"  the  Duke  said,  pathetically. 
"Marriage  is  the  most  tiresome  ennui  at  any 
time,  but  to  be  forced  through  sheer  beggary 
to  take  some  ugly  woman  you  don't  like  and 
don't  want  is  cruel  hard  luck,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  feelingly. 

He  was  melted  by  the  sympathy  in  my  voice. 

"You  are  a  delicious  woman;  you  seem  to 
understand  one  directly.  People  have  got  into 
the  way  of  thinking  it  is  no  hardship  to  have 

100 


THE  REFLECTIONS, OF 

to  do  these  things  for  the  sake  of  one's  title,  but 
I  can  see  you  are  sympathetic/' 

"Yes,  indeed!"  I  said. 

"Cordelia  Grenellen  is  arranging  it  for  me. 
I  have  not  seen  her  yet — I  mean  the  heiress/' 

"If  I  were  a  man  I  think  I  should  keep  my 
freedom  and — and — work/'  I  faltered. 

He  looked  at  me,  perfectly  astonished. 

"But  what  can  I  do?"  he  asked.  "Only  go 
into  the  city,  and  that  is  quite  played  out  now. 
I  have  no  head  for  business,  and  it  would  seem 
to  me  to  be  rather  mean  just  to  trade  upon  my 
name  to  get  unsuspecting  people  to  take  shares 
in  concerns;  whereas  if  I  marry  an  heiress  it  is 
a  square  game — I  at  least  give  her  some  return 
for  her  money/' 

"There  is  a  great  deal  in  what  you  say,"  I 
agreed. 

"  I  told  Cordelia — she  is  a  cousin  of  mine,  you 
know — I  told  her  I  would  not  have  a  very  ugly 
one,  and  I  should  prefer  that  she  should  be  a 
good,  healthy  brewer's  daughter.  Our  family 
is  over- well  bred.  You  see,  if  you  are  going  to 
sacrifice  yourself  to  keep  up  your  name,  you 
may  as  well  choose  some  one  that  will  be  of  some 
ultimate  use  to  it.  Now  we  want  a  strain  of 
thick  red  blood  in  our  veins;  ours  is  a  great 
deal  too  blue.  We  are  becoming  reedy  shaped, 
and  more  or  less  idiotic." 

He  said  all  this  quite  gravely.  He  had  evi- 
dently studied  the  subject,  and  as  I  Iooke4  at 

101 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

him  I  felt  he  was  perfectly  right.  If  he  represent- 
ed the  type  of  his  race,  it  had  certainly  grown 
effete. 

"I  won't  have  an  American/'  he  continued. 
"They  are  intellectual  companions  before  mar- 
riage, and  they  are  generally  so  agreeable  you 
don't  notice  how  nervous  and  restless  they  are 
really,  but  I  would  not  contemplate  one  as  a 
wife.  1  must  have  a  solid  English  cow- woman." 

He  stretched  himself  by  my  side  and  began 
pulling  a  bit  of  grass  to  pieces.  His  hands 
look  transparent,  and  he  has  the  most  beautifully 
shaped  filbert  nails;  his  ears,  on  the  contrary, 
are  not  perfect,  but  stick  out  like  a  monkey's. 

"  You  see,  I  should  always  live  my  own  life," 
he  went  on,  lazily.  "I  worship  the  beautiful. 
The  pagans'  highest  expression  of  beauty  which 
moved  the  world  was  in  sculpture  —  cold  and 
pure  marble  of  divine  form.  That  awakened 
their  emotions;  one  reads  they  had  a  number 
of  emotions.  The  Renaissance  people,  to  take 
a  medium  time,  expressed  themselves  by  paint- 
ing glorious  colors  on  flat  canvas ;  they  also  had 
emotions.  Those  two  arts  now  are  more  or  less 
dead.  At  any  rate,  they  have  ceased  to  influ- 
ence masses  of  people.  Our  great  expression  is 
music.  We  are  moved  by  music.  It  gives  us 
emotions  en  bloc — all  of  us — some  by  the  tune 
of  'Tommy  Atkins/  and  others  by  Wagner. 
Well,  all  these  three — sculpture,  painting,  and 
music — give  me  pleasure,  but  I  should  not  want 

102 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

my  cow  duchess  to  understand  any  of  them.  I 
should  want  her  to  have  numbers  of  chubby 
children  and  to  fulfil  her  social  duties,  and  never 
have  to  go  into  a  rest-cure,  or  have  a  longing 
for  sympathy/' 

I  said  a  few  "yeses"  and  "reallys"  during 
this  long  speech,  and  he  continued,  like  a  mill 
grinding  coffee: 

"  It  don't  do  to  over-breed.  You  are  bound  to 
turn  out  some  toques  if  not  altogether  idiotic,  and 
then  my  sense  of  beauty  is  outraged  by  the 
freaks  that  happen  in  our  shapes — you  should 
see  my  two  sisters,  the  plainest  women  in  Eng- 
land. Now  you  give  me  joy  to  look  at.  You 
are  quite  beautiful,  you  know.  I  never  saw 
any  one  with  a  nose  as  straight  and  finely  cut 
as  yours.  Why  do  you  keep  putting  your  par- 
asol so  that  I  cannot  see  it?" 

"  One  uses  a  parasol  to  keep  off  the  sun,  which 
is  hot.  Would  you  wish  me  to  get  a  sunstroke  to 
oblige  you?"  And  I  put  down  my  parasol  still 
lower. 

"You  are  selfish!"  in  an  aggrieved  voice. 

"Of  course." 

"And  not  the  least  ashamed  of  it!" 

"Not  the  least." 

He  moved  his  position  deliberately  so  that 
he  came  to  my  other  side,  where  the  sun  was 
not. 

"I  learned  a  certain  amount  of  manoeuvring 
in  South  Africa,  where  I  went  for  a  morrth  or 

103 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

two,"  he  said.  "I  hope  this  side  of  your  face 
will  be  as  pretty.  People  always  have  a  better 
and  a  worse  side/' 

I  laughed.  It  was  too  hot  to  circumvent  him 
again,  and  his  looking  at  me  could  not  hurt 
me. 

"This  side  is  even  prettier/'  he  said,  presently. 
"  Where  did  you  hide  yourself,  that  we  none  of 
us  ever  saw  you  before  you  married?" 

"  I  lived  rather  near  here  for  a  little  while/' 

"Now  you  look  sad  again.  I  never  watched 
any  one's  face  so  much.  Yours  is  not  like  other 
people's;  you  look  like  a  cameo,  you  know." 

"  Tell  me  about  the  people  here, ' '  I  said.  "  They 
are  all  strangers  to  me." 

"But  I  would  much  rather  talk  about  you." 

"That  does  not  interest  me;  you  said  I  was 
selfish,  so  you  do  what  I  wish." 

"  What  can  I  tell  you  of  them?  They  are  like 
all  companies — dull  and  amusing,  mixed.  They 
are  a  fair  specimen  of  most  people  one  meets 
in  the  monde  ou  I' on  s' amuse.  My  cousin  Lady 
Grenellen  is  perhaps  the  most  interesting  among 
them,  as  she  has  had  the  most  histories." 

"Histories?" 

"Yes;  her  career  has  been  one  of  riding  for 
a  series  of  falls,  and  escaping  even  a  peck." 

"She  is  very  lovely." 

"Oh  yes,  Cordelia  is  good-looking  enough," 
he  said,  as  though  there  was  considerably  more 
to  add. 

104 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  did  not  continue  the  subject  further.  We 
talked  of  books,  the  war,  and  various  other  things, 
and  by-and-by  our  hostess  called  to  us  from  the 
higher  level  of  the  old  drawbridge  where  she  was 
sitting. 

"We  must  be  descending  for  some  tea/'  she 
said,  and  started  on  with  her  politician. 

When  we  got  back,  Augustus  was  swinging 
Lady  Grenellen  in  a  lovely  Louis  XV.  balangoire, 
fixed  up  between  two  elm-trees ;  she  put  one  foot 
out,  and  looked  so  lovely  and  radiant! 

Augustus  had  the  expression  of  one  of  those 
negro  pages  Thackeray  drew  in  The  Virginians 
— a  mixture  of  pride  and  self-complacency — as 
he  held  the  red  silk  ropes. 

Tea  was  so  merry!  No  one  was  witty  like 
grandmamma  and  the  Marquis,  but  every  one 
was  in  a  good  temper  and  it  was  gay. 

The  party  was  rather  more  punctual  at  din- 
ner on  Sunday  night,  and  Lady  Tilchester 
had  arranged,  as  she  meant  to  the  night  be- 
fore, that  I  should  sit  next  her  politician.  Mr. 
Budge  and  Mrs.  Gurrage — the  names  went  well 
together ! 

I  do  not  know  anything  about  politics,  but 
he  is  what  I  suppose  must  be  a  Radical,  as  he 
preaches  home  rule  for  Ireland,  and  equal  rights 
for  all  mankind,  and  an  apologetic  tone  to  other 
nations,  and  a  general  dividing  up  of  all  one's 
biens.  But  they  say  he  has  a  splendid  house 
in  Grosvenor  Square,  and  a  flat  in  Paris,,  and 

105 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

never  asks  any  but  the  smartest  titled  people  to 
his  big  pheasant  shoot  in  Suffolk. 

He  was  delightful  at  dinner,  anyway,  and 
made  me  laugh.  His  voice  is  clear,  with  just 
the  faintest  touch  of  Irish  in  it.  And  he  sparred 
with  Lady  Tilchester  across  me. 

She  is  the  greatest  grande  dame  one  could 
meet,  and  a  Tory  to  the  backbone  in  politics, 
but  her  manner  to  the  servants  is  not  nearly 
so  haughty  as  Mr.  Budge's. 

I  do  not  like  his  hands;  I  cannot  say  why; 
they  are  neither  big  nor  ill-shapen,  but  there 
is  something  fat  and  feminine  about  the  fin- 
gers. I  dare  say,  underneath,  he  could  be  like 
Augustus. 

Lady  Tilchester  is  devoted  to  him,  and  he 
has  the  greatest  admiration  and  respect  for  her. 
Their  conversation  is  most  interesting. 

Some  of  the  other  men  are  very  nice,  and 
several  of  them  almost  come  up  to  grandmam- 
ma's criterion  of  the  perfect  male  —  that  he 
should  "look  like  a  man  and  behave  like  a 
gentleman/' 

The  women  are  very  smartly  dressed  all  the 
time,  but  they  do  not  show  a  great  sense  of  the 
fitness  of  things.  Only  Lady  Grenellen  and 
Lady  Tilchester  are  always  adorable  and  at- 
tractive in  anything  and  in  any  way. 

I  believe  they  do  not  love  one  another  very 
much,  although  they  are  quite  friendly;  one 
somehow  can  see  it  in  their  eyes. 

106 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

The  Tilchester  boy,  who  is  thirteen,  has  just 
gone  to  Eton,  but  will  soon  be  home  for  the  holi- 
days; the  little  girl  is  at  the  sea.  So  I  have 
not  seen  either  of  them. 

The  whole  house  here  is  so  beautifully  done; 
there  is  no  fuss,  and  everything  is  exactly  where 
one  wants  to  find  it.  I  shall  be  sorry  when 
we  leave. 

Just  as  we  had  begun  luncheon  to-day,  Sir 
Antony  Thornhirst  came  in,  and,  after  a  casual 
greeting  to  every  one,  sat  down  near  me. 

He  seems  quite  at  home  here,  and  as  if  he 
were  accustomed  to  turning  up  unannounced  in 
this  way. 

I  felt  such  a  queer,  quick  beating  in  my  heart. 
I  suppose  because  among  all  these  strangers  he 
was  some  one  I  knew  before. 

"So  you  decided  not  to  cut  the  Gordian  knot/' 
he  said,  presently,  as  if  we  were  continuing 
the  discussion  of  some  argument  we  had  had 
a  moment  before. 

He  bridged  in  an  instant  the  great  gulf  since 
my  wedding.  This  sang  froid  stupefied  me.  I 
found  nothing  to  say. 

He  continued: 

"Do  you  know,  I  have  heard  since  that  to 
give  any  one  a  knife  cuts  friendship,  and  brings 
bad  luck  and  separation,  and  numbers  of  dread- 
ful things.  So  you  and  I  are  now  declared 
enemies,  I  suppose.  Shall  we  go  and  throw 
the  little  ill-omen  in  the  lake  after  lunch?" 

107 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"No;  I  will  not  part  with  my  knife;  I  find 
it  very  useful/'  I  said,  in  a  bete  way. 

"Antony/'  called  out  Lord  Tilchester,  "you 
have  arrived  in  the  nick  of  time  to  save  Baby- 
kins  from  turning  into  a  hospital  nurse.  She 
thinks  the  costume  becoming,  and  threatens  to 
leave  us  for  the  wounded  heroes.  Cannot  you 
restrain  her?" 

"How?"  asked  Sir  Antony,  helping  himself 
to  some  chicken  curry.  "  Really  excellent  curry 
your  chef  makes,  Tilchester/' 

"Don't  tell  him  about  it,  Reggie,"  lisped 
Mrs.  Parton-Mills.  "The  unfeeling  creature  is 
only  thinking  of  his  food." 

"You  seem  to  have  all  the  qualities  for  an 
ideal  convalescent  nurse,"  said  Sir  Antony,  with 
an  air  of  detaching  himself  with  difficulty  from 
the  contemplation  of  the  curry. 

"And  those  qualities  are — ?"  asked  Lord 
Tilchester. 

"Principally  stimulating,"  and  he  selected 
a  special  chutney  from  the  various  kinds  a  foot- 
man was  handing. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Babykins, 
pouting. 

"Exactly  what  you  do/'  and  he  looked  at 
her,  smiling  in  a  way  I  should  have  said  was 
insolent  had  it  been  I  who  was  concerned. 

"But  I  want  to  go  and  help  the  poor  dear 
fellows,  and  to  cheer  them  and  make  their  time 
pleasanter." 

108 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"I  said  you  would  be  an  ideal  convalescent 
nurse.  But  what  would  become  of  the  pigs?" 

"Oh,  Edward  could  look  after  them.  I  think 
too  little  attention  has  been  paid  to  the  poor 
boys  who  are  getting  well.  I  could  read  to 
them  and  write  their  letters  home  for  them," 
and  she  looked  pathetically  sympathetic. 

"Hubble-bubble,  toil  and  trouble,"  quoted  Sir 
Antony. 

"Who  for?"  laughed  Lord  Tilchester,  in  his 
rough,  gruff  way. 

"  The  recipients  of  the  letters,  who  would  cer- 
tainly receive  them  in  the  wrong  envelopes," 
said  Sir  Antony.  "I  think,  Tilchester,  you 
had  better  persuade  Babykins  to  stay  in  Eng- 
land, for  the  sake  of  the  peace  of  many  respect- 
able and  innocent  families." 

"How  wicked  you  are  to  me,"  flashed  Baby- 
kins. 

"Just  what  you  deserve,"  chuckled  Lord 
Tilchester. 

"What  tiresome  nonsense  these  people  talk," 
said  Sir  Antony,  calmly,  to  me.  "You  and  I 
were  in  the  middle  of  an  interesting  problem 
discussion,  were  we  not?  And  now  I  have  lost 
the  thread." 

"It  does  not  in  the  least  matter,"  I  said. 

The  Duke,  who  was  on  the  other  side  of  me, 
did  not  care  to  be  left  out,  and  persistently  talked 
to  me  for  the  rest  of  lunch. 

Sir  Antony  consumed  his  with  the  apprecia- 
109 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

tion  of  a  connoisseur.     It  appeared  to  be  the 
only  thing  which  interested  him. 

Babykins,  from  the  other  side,  did  her  ut- 
most to  engage  him  in  a  war  of  wits,  but  he 
remained  calm,  with  the  air  of  a  placid  lion. 

When  we  got  outside  in  the  great  tent  he  came 
up  to  me. 

"I  am  going  to  take  you  for  a  walk/'  he  said 
— "a  nice,  cool  walk  in  the  woods.  Will  you 
get  your  parasol?" 

The  Duke  was  at  that  moment  fetching  it  for 
me  from  the  hall  table,  where  I  had  left  it. 

"I  do  not  know  what  we  shall  do  to-day/' 
I  said.  "I  believe  I  am  going  to  play  cro- 
quet/' 

"  Oh  no,  you  are  not.  It  is  much  too  hot,  and 
you  must  see  the  woods.  They  are  historical, 
and —  Here,  take  this  parasol  and  let  us  start." 
This  last  hurriedly,  as  the  Duke  was  seen  re- 
turning with  mine. 

I  cannot  say  why  I  allowed  myself  to  be 
dragged  off  like  this.  My  natural  impulse  has 
always  been  to  do  the  opposite  thing  when  or- 
dered by  any  one  but  grandmamma.  But  here 
I  found  myself  walking  meekly  beside  my  kins- 
man down  a  yew-bordered  path,  holding  a  mauve 
silk  parasol  over  my  head  which  did  not  be- 
long to  me. 

We  did  not  speak  until  we  got  quite  to  the 
end,  where  there  is  a  quaint  fountain,  the  cen- 
tre of  four  allies  of  clipped  yews. 

no 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

My  heart  still  continued  to  beat  in  a  quick, 
tiresome  manner. 

"You  look  changed,  Comtesse,"  Sir  Antony 
said.  "Your  little  face  is  pale.  Do  you  re- 
member the  night  we  danced  together?  It  was 
round  and  rosy  then.  Is  it  a  hundred  years 
ago?" 

There  is  a  something  in  his  voice  which  is 
alluring.  The  mocking  sound  goes  out  of  it  now 
and  then,  and  when  it  does  one  feels  as  if  one 
must  listen.  Oh,  but  listen  with  both  one's  ears ! 

"Yes,  it  is  a  hundred  years  ago/'  I  said. 

"I  was  so  sorry  to  hear  of  your  grandmoth- 
er's death/'  he  continued.  "I  wanted  to  tell 
you  how  I  felt  for  you,  but  I  was  away  in  Nor- 
way, and  have  only  just  returned.  Did  you 
think  I  was  unkind?" 

"No,  I  never  thought  at  all.  Grandmamma 
was  glad  to  die.  I  knew  she  could  not  live,  but 
it  came  suddenly  at  the  end." 

"What  a  splendid  personality!  How  I  wish 
I  had  seen  more  of  her!  I  generally  manage 
to  seize  the  occasion,  but  fate  kept  you  and  her 
beyond  my  reach.  Why  did  we  not  all  meet 
this  time  last  year?" 

"  Oh,  do  not  talk  of  that !"  I  cried.  I  felt  I  could 
not  bear  to  hear  any  more.  "I  am  trying  to 
forget,  and  to  find  life  full  of  compensations. 
Grandmamma  and  the  Marquis  promised  me 
that  I  should." 

He  looked  at  me,  stopped  in  the  path,  and 
in 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

bent  down  to  a  level  with  my  face.  His  eyes 
seemed  as  if  they  could  see  right  through  my 
mind  then,  as  on  another  occasion  in  our  lives. 

"Dear  little  white  Comtesse!"  he  said.  Al- 
most the  same  words. 

An  emotion  that  is  new  to  me  happened.  It 
was  as  if  my  heart  beat  in  my  throat. 

"We  are  dawdling  by  this  fountain/'  I  said. 
"Where  are  the  woods?" 

After  that  we  were  gay.  He  told  me  of  many 
things.  I  seemed  to  see  a  clear  picture  of  the 
world  as  he  talked — a  light  and  pleasant  world, 
where  no  one  was  so  foolish  as  to  care  for  any- 
thing seriously. 

One  felt  a  donkey,  to  worry  or  grieve  when 
the  sun  shone  and  the  birds  sang! 

How  I  enjoyed  myself! 

"Has  Babykins  chirped  at  you  yet?"  he  ask- 
ed, presently.  "  She  is  very  dangerous  when  she 
chirps." 

"I  do  not  like  her,"  I  said. 

"Oh,  you  will  presently.  We  all  love  Baby- 
kins.  She  acts  as  a  sort  of  moral  mosquito  in 
a  big  party.  She  flies  around  stinging  every 
one,  and  then  we  compare  our  bites  and  tear 
and  scratch  the  irritated  places  together.  You 
will  meet  her  everywhere — she  is  the  only  per- 
son Tilchester  takes  a  serious  interest  in." 

"Are  you  staying  here,"  I  asked,  "or  did 
you  only  drive  over?" 

"I  sent  for  my  servant  to  bring  my  things, 
112 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

and  I  shall  stay  now  I  find  you.  You  always 
seem  to  forget  we  are  cousins,  and  that  people 
ought  to  take  an  interest  in  their  relations!" 

"Tell  me  about  your  house — Dane  Mount  it 
is  -called,  is  it  not?"  I  asked,  presently.  We 
had  been  silent  for  a  moment,  walking  down  a 
shady  path,  great  pine-trees  on  each  side. 

"  No,  I  won't  tell  you  about  it ;  you  must  come 
over  there  some  day  and  stop  with  me  for  a  night 
or  so.  You  ought  to  see  the  home  of  your  an- 
cestors, you  know.  Promise  me  you  will  when 
I  come  back  from  Scotland!" 

We  had  gone  deep  into  the  wood  by  now.  It 
was  quite  dusky.  The  thick  trees  met  over- 
head, and  only  an  occasional  sunbeam  pene- 
trated through. 

I  felt  stupid.  The  words  did  not  come  so 
easily  as  when  I  am  with  the  Duke. 

"How  silent  you  are,  Comtesse!" 

"Is  it  not  time  to  go  back?"  I  said,  stupidly. 

"No,  not  nearly  time.  I  want  you  to  tell  me 
all  about  yourself — where  you  lived,  and  all  that 
happened  until  you  flashed  into  my  life  at  the 
Tilchester  ball.  See,  we  will  sit  down  on  this  log 
of  wood  and  be  quite  comfortable." 

We  sat  down. 

"Now  begin,  Comtesse:  'Once  upon  a  time, 
when  I  was  a  little  girl,  I  came  from — where?" 

"Do  you  really  want  to  hear  the  family  his- 
tory?" I  asked. 

"Yes." 
8  113 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  told  him  an  outline  of  things  and  how  grand- 
mamma and  I  had  lived  at  the  cottage,  and  of 
all  her  wise  sayings,  and  about  the  Marquis 
and  Roy  and  Hephzibah,  and  the  simple  things 
of  my  long-ago  past.  It  seemed  as  if  I  was 
speaking  of  some  other  person,  so  changed  has 
all  my  outlook  on  life  and  things  become  since 
I  went  to  Paris  with  Augustus. 

"And  now  we  come  to  the  day  we  met  in  the 
lane/'  he  said.  "You  were  not  even  engaged 
then,  were  you?" 

"Oh  no!  Grandmamma  had  never  had  a 
fainting-fit;  she  would  have  found  the  idea  too 
dreadful  at  that  time."  I  stopped  suddenly, 
realizing  what  I  had  said.  I  could  not  tell  him 
how  and  why  I  had  married  Augustus ;  he  must 
think  what  he  pleased. 

He  evidently  thought  a  good  deal,  by  the  look 
in  his  eyes.  I  wish — I  wish  when  he  looks  it 
did  not  make  my  heart  beat  so;  it  is  foolish  and 
uncomfortable. 

"  What  a  fool  I  was  not  to  come  with  the  auto- 
mobile the  night  before  your  wedding  and  carry 
you  off  to  Gretna  Green/'  he  said,  in  a  voice  that 
might  have  been  mocking  or  serious,  I  could  not 
tell  which. 

"Tell  me,  Comtesse,  if  I  had  tapped  at  your 
window,  would  you  have  looked  out  and  come 
with  me?" 

"There  was  a  bad  thunder-storm,  if  I  recol- 
lect. We  should  have  got  wet/'  I  laughed,  in  a 

114 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

hollow  way.  He  could  not  know  how  he  was 
hurting  me;  he  should  not  see,  at  all  events. 

"You  would  have  been  very  dear  to  take  to 
Gretna  Green/'  he  continued.  "I  should  have 
loved  to  watch  your  wise,  sweet  eyes  changing 
all  expressions  as  morning  dawned  and  you 
found  yourself  away  from  them  all — away  from 
Augustus." 

I  did  not  answer.  I  drew  hieroglyphics  with 
the  point  of  the  mauve  parasol  in  the  soft  moss 
beneath  our  feet. 

"Why  don't  you  speak,  Comtesse?" 

"  There  is  nothing  to  say — I  am  married — and 
you  did  not  tap  at  the  window — and  let  us  go 
back  to  the  house." 


IV 


THE  last  evening  at  Harley  is  one  of  the  things 
I  shall  not  want  to  recall.  Augustus  got  drunk 
— yes,  it  is  almost  too  dreadful  to  write  even. 
I  had  not  realized  up  to  this  that  gentlemen  (of 
course  I  do  not  mean  that  word  literally,  as  ap- 
plied to  Augustus,  but  I  mean  people  with  money 
and  a  respectable  position) — I  never  realized  that 
they  got  drunk.  I  thought  it  was  only  common 
men  in  the  street. 

It  struck  me  he  was  making  a  great  noise  at 
dinner,  but  as  he  was  sitting  on  the  same  side 
of  the  table  as  I  was  I  could  not  see.  When  the 
men  joined  us  afterwards  it  came  upon  me  as  a 
thunder-clap.  His  face  was  a  deep  heliotrope, 
and  he  walked  unsteadily — not  really  lurching 
about,  but  rather  as  if  the  furniture  was  in  the 
way. 

One  or  two  of  the  men  seemed  very  much 
amused,  especially  when  he  went  and  pushed 
himself  into  the  sofa  where  Lady  Grenellen  was 
sitting  and  threw  his  arm  along  the  back  behind 
her  head.  I  felt  frozen.  I  could  not  have  risen 
from  my  chair  for  a  few  moments.  She,  how- 
ever, did  not  seem  to  mind  at  all;  she  merely 

116 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

laughed  continuously  behind  her  fan,  the  men 
helping  her  to  ridicule  Augustus. 

For  me  it  was  an  hour  of  deep  humiliation. 
It  required  all  my  self-control  to  go  on  talking 
to  Babykins  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

The  Duke  came  over  and  joined  us.  He  drew 
a  low  chair  and  sat  down  so  that  I  could  not 
see  the  hilarious  sofa-party. 

I  have  not  the  least  idea  what  he  said  or  what 
any  of  us  said.  The  guffaws  of  laughter  in  Au- 
gustus's thick  voice  was  all  I  was  conscious  of. 

Sir  Antony  Thornhirst,  who  had  stopped  to 
speak  to  Lady  Tilchester  by  the  billiard-room 
door,  now  came  over  to  us.  He  stood  by  me  for 
a  moment,  then  crossed  to  Lady  Grenellen. 

"They  are  wanting  you  to  play  bridge  in  the 
blue  drawing-room/'  he  said. 

She  rose  quite  reluctantly,  still  overcome  with 
mirth.  Augustus  tried  to  get  up,  too,  but  stum- 
bled back  into  the  sofa. 

Then,  with  infinite  tact,  my  kinsman  attracted 
his  attention,  said  some  thrilling  thing  about 
the  war,  and,  as  Lady  Grenellen  moved  off  and 
Augustus  made  another  ineffectual  attempt  to 
rise  and  follow  her,  Sir  Antony  sat  down  in  her 
vacant  place  and  for  half  an  hour  conversed 
with  my  husband.  Oh,  I  force  myself  to  write 
the  words  "my  husband/'  It  is  to  keep  the  hid- 
eous fact  in  remembrance,  otherwise  I  might  let 
myself  express  aloud  the  loathing  and  contempt 
I  feel  for  him. 

"7 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Sir  Antony  had  never  before  taken  the  least 
notice  of  him  beyond  the  most  casual  polite- 
ness, and  now,  from  the  scraps  of  conversation 
that  my  preternaturally  sharpened  ears  could 
catch,  he  seemed  to  be  trying  his  best  to  inter- 
est and  retain  Augustus  beside  him.  Gradually 
the  whole  company  dispersed  into  the  different 
drawing-rooms  as  usual,  and  I  followed  the  rest 
to  look  at  the  bridge. 

As  I  was  passing  the  sofa  where  the  two  men 
were  sitting,  Augustus  seized  hold  of  my  dress. 

"Don't  look  so  damned  haughty,  little  wom- 
an/' he  hiccoughed.  "Er — I'm  all  right — give 
me  a  kiss — " 

"As  I  was  going  to  tell  you/'  interrupted  Sir 
Antony,  "I  heard  for  a  fact  that  the  rest  of  the 
Tilchester  Yeomanry  that  have  escaped  so  long 
are  going  to  volunteer  to  go  out,  after  all." 

Augustus  dropped  my  dress.  His  face  got 
paler.  This  information  seemed  to  sober  him 
for  an  instant,  and  in  that  blessed  interval 
I  got  away  and  into  the  blue  drawing-room. 
Lady  Tilchester  was  not  playing  bridge,  and 
she  sat  down  in  the  window -seat  beside  me. 
It  was  a  lovely  night,  and  the  windows  were 
wide  open. 

She  is  the  most  delightful  companion.  I  am 
beginning  to  know  her  a  little  and  to  realize 
how  much  there  is  to  know. 

To-night  she  was  more  than  usually  fasci- 
nating. It  seemed  as  if  she  wished  to  make 

118 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

me  forget  everything  but  the  pleasure  in  our 
conversation.  She  has  a  vast  knowledge  of 
books,  and  has  even  read  all  the  French  classics 
that  grandmamma  loved.  We  talked  of  many 
things,  and,  among  them,  gardens.  She  told 
me  that  I  must  make  a  new  garden  at  Ledstone, 
and  I  would  find  it  an  immense  interest;  and 
she  spoke  so  kindly  of  Mrs.  Gurrage,  and  said 
how  charitable  she  was  and  good-hearted,  and 
then  delicately,  and  as  if  it  had  no  bearing  upon 
the  Gurrage  case,  hinted  that  in  these  days 
money  was  the  only  thing  needed  to  make  an 
agreeable  society  for  one's  self,  and  that  in  the 
future  I  must  have  plenty  of  amusement. 

Insensibly  my  heart  became  lightened. 

She  talked  to  me  of  grandmamma,  too,  and 
drew  me  into  telling  her  things  about  our  past. 
She  was  interested  in  grandmamma's  strange 
bringing-up  of  me,  so  different,  she  said,  to  the 
English  girls  of  the  present  day. 

"And  is  it  that,  I  wonder,  which  has  turned 
you  into  almost  as  great  a  cynic  as  Antony 
Thornhirst?  He  is  the  greatest  I  know." 

"But  can  one  be  a  cynic  if  one  has  so  kind 
a  heart?"  I  asked. 

She  looked  at  me  quickly  with  a  strange  look. 

"How  have  you  discovered  that  so  soon? 
Most  people  would  not  credit  him  with  having 
any  heart  at  ail,"  she  said.  "You  know  with 
all  his  immense  prestige  and  popularity  peo- 
ple are  a  little  afraid  of  him.  I  think  one  would 

119 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

sum  up  the  impression  of  Antony  as  a  man 
who  never  in  all  his  life  has  been,  or  will  be, 
called  'Tony." 

Her  voice  was  retrospecting. 

"You  have  known  him  very  long?"  I  ques- 
tioned. 

"  Ever  since  I  married,  fourteen  years  ago.  I 
remember  I  saw  him  first  at  my  wedding.  He 
and  Tilchester  had,  of  course,  been  old  friends, 
always  living  so  near  each  other.  We  are  ex- 
actly the  same  age  —  thirty-four,  both  of  us. 
Growing  old,  you  see!"  She  laughed  softly, 
then  she  continued: 

"Antony  was  never  like  other  men  exactly. 
He  is  original,  and  extraordinarily  well  read — 
only  casually  one  would  never  guess  it.  He 
wastes  his  life  rather,  though.  I  wish  he  would 
go  into  Parliament.  He  has  a  habit  of  rush- 
ing off  on  long  travels.  Some  years  ago  he 
went  off  suddenly  and  was  away  for  ages  and 
ages — about  five  years,  I  think.  Then  he  stay- 
ed at  Dane  Mount  for  a  while,  and  then,  when 
the  war  first  began,  he  went  out  there,  and  has 
only  been  home  a  year." 

"He  never  speaks  of  himself  nor  what  he 
does,  I  notice." 

"No;  that  is  just  his  charm.  I  should  like 
you  to  see  Dane  Mount.  It  is  far  nicer  than 
this,  and  he  has  wonderful  taste.  It  is  the  most 
comfortable  house  I  know.  He  has  delightful 
parties  there  when  the  shooting  begins." 

120 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"  It  would  interest  me  to  see  it,  because  grand- 
papa came  from  there/'  I  said. 

"Of  course,  you  are  cousins,  in  a  way.  You 
don't  know  how  interested  Antony  was  in  you 
that  night  after  the  Tilchester  Yeomanry  ball. 
He  came  and  sat  in  my  sitting-room  and  talked 
to  me  about  you,  and  then  it  was  he  put  two 
and  two  together  and  discovered  you  were  re- 
lated. I  had  heard  that  evening  about  your 
grandmother  and  you  living  at  the  cottage,  and 
was  able  to  give  him  some  information.  I  don't 
think  he  realized  when  you  met  that  you  were 
connected,  did  he?" 

"No,  not  at  all." 

"A  friend  of  mine  and  I  were  sitting  by  the 
fire,  having  said  good -night  to  the  rest  of  the 
party — do  you  remember  what  a  cold  May  night 
it  was?  Antony  came  in  and  joined  us.  We 
all  had  admired  you  so.  I  recollect  this  is  one 
of  the  things  he  said :  '  I  met  an  eighteenth-cen- 
tury marquise  to-night." 

"  Yes,  he  called  me  that." 

"  He  is  so  very  hard  to  please.  The  ordinary 
women,  like  Babykins  and  Cordelia  Grenellen, 
don't  understand  his  subtle  wit.  They  are  gen- 
erally in  love  with  him,  though.  Cordelia  was 
madly  Uprise  last  autumn;  but  he  is  as  indif- 
ferent as  possible,  and  does  not  trouble  him- 
self about  any  of  them.  He  is  reported  to  have 
said  once  that  it  had  taken  him  five  years  to 
degrade  himself  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  en- 

121 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

joy  the  society  of  modern  women.  He  is  a  won- 
derful cynic!" 

"The  Duke  gave  me  to  understand  that  no 
man  of  the  world  was  ever  without  some  af- 
fair/' I  said. 

"Well,  I  suppose  it  is  true  more  or  less,  but 
Antony  is  always  the  person  who  holds  the 
cheek,  hardly  even  complacently  —  generally 
with  perfect  indifference.  I  have  never  known 
him,  for  years,  put  himself  out  an  inch  for  any 


woman/' 


I  don't  know  why,  but  this  conversation  inter- 
ested me  deeply. 

Just  then  some  one  came  and  joined  us  at 
the  window,  and  Lady  Tilchester  had  to  rise 
and  talk  with  her  other  guests ;  but  before  she 
moved  off  she  put  her  hand  on  my  arm  and 
said,  as  if  she  had  only  then  remembered  it : 

"Oh,  the  housekeeper  let  me  know  just  now 
that  some  soot  had  fallen  in  your  chimney. 
I  do  hope  you  won't  mind  sleeping  in  a  tiny 
bedroom  off  mine,  just  for  to-night.  We  were 
so  afraid  the  smell  would  keep  you  awake. 
Your  maid  has  moved  your  things." 

Dear  and  kind  lady !  I  will  never  forget  your 
goodness  to  me  nor  cease  to  love  you. 

It  was  pouring  rain  as  we  drove  home  next  day. 

Augustus  and  I  only  met  as  we  were  ready 
to  get  into  the  carriage.  I  had  breakfasted  in 
my  room. 

122 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

His  face  was  the  color  of  putty,  and  he  had 
that  look  in  his  eyes  which,  I  remember,  long 
ago  I  used  to  say  appeared  as  if  he  had  not  had 
enough  sleep.  His  expression  was  sulky  and  mo- 
rose, and  I  was  thankful  when  at  last  we  started. 

The  guests  were  catching  all  sorts  of  trains. 
There  were  casual  good-byes.  Lady  Tilchester 
was  not  down,  and  no  one  occupied  themselves 
much  with  any  one. 

Lady  Grenellen  left  just  before  us.  She  did 
not  take  the  least  notice  of  me,  but  she  talked 
in  a  caressing  way  to  Augustus,  and  I  heard 
him  say: 

"Now,  you  won't  forget!  It  is  a  bargain!" 
in  the  most  empress^  voice,  as  he  pulled  his  head 
out  of  the  carriage-window. 

For  the  first  mile  or  two  of  our  journey  nei- 
ther of  us  spoke.  Augustus  lit  a  cigarette  and 
smoked  in  a  nervous  way,  and  kept  opening  and 
shutting  the  window. 

Then  he  swore  at  me.  I  will  not  say  the  words 
he  used,  but  the  sentence  ended  with  a  demand 
why  I  sat  there  looking  like  a  "  stuck  pig/' 

I  told  him  quietly  that  if  he  spoke  to  me  like 
that  I  would  not  reply  at  all. 

He  got  very  angry  and  said  he  would  have 
none  of  that  nonsense;  that  I  seemed  to  forget 
that  I  was  his  wife,  and  that  he  could  do  as  he 
pleased  with  me. 

"  No,  you  cannot,"  I  said.  "  I  will  not  be  spo- 
ken to  like  that." 

123 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"  You'll  be  spoken  to  just  as  I  jolly  well  please," 
was  his  refined  reply.  "  Sitting  there  like  a  white 
wax -doll,  and  giving  yourself  the  airs  of  a 
duchess!" 

I  did  not  answer. 

"A  deaf  and  dumb  doll,  too/'  he  said,  with 
an  oath. 

He  then  asked  where  I  had  been  all  night, 
and  what  I  had  meant  by  daring  to  stay  away 
from  him. 

I  remained  perfectly  silent,  which,  I  fear,  was 
infinitely  provoking,  but  I  could  not  stoop  to 
bandy  words  with  him. 

He  began  to  bluster,  and  loaded  me  with  every 
coarse  abuse  and  a  tremendous  justification  of 
himself  and  his  behavior  of  the  night  before. 
I  had  not  mentioned  the  subject  or  accused  him 
of  anything,  but  he  assured  me  he  had  not  been 
the  least  drunk  and  that  my  haughtiness  was 
enough  to  drive  any  man  mad. 

When  at  least  ten  minutes  of  this  torrent 
had  spent  itself  a  little,  I  said  the  whole  sub- 
ject was  so  disagreeable  to  me  and  discreditable 
to  him  that  he  had  better  not  talk  of  it  and  I 
would  try  and  forget  it. 

Grandmamma  often  told  me  how  her  grand- 
father, the  husband  of  Ambrosine  Eustasie, 
had  refused  to  fight  with  a  man  of  low  birth 
who  had  insulted  him,  but  had  sent  one  of 
his  valets  to  throw  the  creature  into  the  street, 
because  in  those  days  a  gentleman  only  crossed 

124 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

swords  with  his  equals.  I  now  understood  his 
feelings.  I  could  not  quarrel  with  Augustus,  the 
whole  situation  was  so  impossible. 

I  tried  to  tell  myself  that  it  did  not  in  the  least 
matter  what  he  said  and  did.  Then,  as  he  con- 
tinued abusing  me,  I  repeated  a  bit  of  B6ranger 
to  myself,  and  so  grew  unconscious,  at  last,  of 
the  words  he  was  saying. 

Silence  came  eventually,  and  then,  after  a 
while,  in  quite  a  humble  voice,  Augustus  said : 

"I  say,  little  woman — er — you  won't  tell  the 
mater — er — will  you?" 

Something  touched  me  in  his  face — his  com- 
mon, unpleasant  face.  The  bluster  was  gone  and 
there  was  a  piteousness  in  it.  I  felt  a  slight 
lump  in  my  throat. 

"Oh  no;  do  not  fear/'  I  said. 

Then  he  called  me  an  angel  and  kissed  me 
many  times,  and  that  was  the  worst  of  all. 

Oh!  When  the  year  is  up,  will  the  "monot- 
onous complacency"  have  set  in? 


THE  days  are  flying1  by.  October  has  almost 
come,  and  the  damp  and  the  falling  leaves.  It 
will  soon  be  time  for  Mrs.  Gurrage  to  depart  for 
Bournemouth. 

Augustus  is  in  a  continual  ferment,  as  the 
report  that  the  rest  of  the  Tilchester  Yeomanry 
are  going  to  volunteer  for  active  service  has 
cropped  up  frequently,  and,  while  he  likes  the 
uniform  and  what  he  considers  the  prestige  of 
belonging  to  such  a  corps,  he  has  no  ardor  for 
using  his  weapons  against  the  Boers. 

I  have  tried  very  hard  to  take  an  interest  in 
the  matter,  but  the  numbness  has  returned. 
The  oppression  of  the  surroundings  at  Ledstone 
cramps  my  spirit. 

We  have  had  several  "  parties "—  batches  of 
Gurrage  relations — one  or  two  really  awful  peo- 
ple. And  some  days  ago  I  was  bidden  to  write  and 
invite  the  guests  for  the  first  big  partridge  drive. 

"The  mater  will  be  gone  to  Bournemouth/' 
Augustus  said,  "and  you'll  have  to  stand  on 
your  own  legs/' 

Matrimony  has  not  cured  him  of  his  habit  of 
using  horrid  phrases. 

126 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

He  has  often  been  very  rude  to  me  lately,  and 
has  taken  to  going  more  frequently  to  town  for 
the  day,  and  stays  away  for  a  night  or  two  some- 
times. 

These  seem  to  me  as  holidays,  and  I  have 
never  thought  of  asking  him  where  he  has  been, 
although  he  comes  back  with  an  apologetic  air 
of  a  guilty  school-boy  which  ought  to  excite  my 
jealousy,  I  feel  sure. 

During  these  absences  his  mother  looks  un- 
easy and  has  once  or  twice  asked  me  if  1  know 
where  he  is. 

My  books  have  come — quantities  of  books ! — 
and  I  spend  hours  in  my  boudoir,  never  lifting 
my  eyes  from  the  pages  to  be  distracted  by  the 
glaring,  mustard-brocade  walls  around  me. 

Mrs.  Gurrage  treats  me  with  respect.  There 
is  a  gradual  but  complete  change  in  her  man- 
ner to  me,  from  what  cause  I  do  not  know.  I 
am  invariably  polite  to  her  and  consider  all  her 
wishes,  and  she  often  tells  me  she  is  very  proud 
of  me ;  but  all  trace  of  the  familiarity  she  exercised 
towards  me  in  the  beginning  has  disappeared. 

I  am  sorry  for  her,  as  she  is  deeply  anxious, 
also,  about  this  question  of  the  Yeomanry  going 
to  the  war. 

Augustus  is  still  her  idol. 

Perhaps  I  am  wicked  to  be  so  indifferent  to 
them  all.  Perhaps  it  is  not  enough  just  to  sub- 
mit and  to  have  gentle  manners.  I  ought  to 
display  interest;  but  I  cannot— oh,  I  cannot. 

127 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

It  is  the  very  small  things  that  jar  upon  me 
— their  sordid  views  upon  no  matter  what  ques- 
tion— the  importance  they  attach  to  trifles. 

Sometimes  in  the  afternoons,  after  tea,  Amelia 
reads  the  Family  Herald  to  Mrs.  Gurrage. 

"A  comfort  it  was  to  me  in  my  young  days, 
my  dear/'  she  often  tells  me. 

The  delinquencies  of  the  house-maids  are  dis- 
cussed at  dinner,  the  smallest  piece  of  gossip  in 
Tilchester  society. 

I  cannot,  try  as  I  will,  remember  the  people's 
different  names,  or  whom  Miss  Jones  is  engaged 
to,  or  whom  Miss  Brown.  Quantities  of  these 
people  come  out  to  tea,  and  those  afternoons  are 
difficult  to  bear.  I  feel  very  tired  when  evening 
comes,  after  having  had  to  sit  there  and  hear 
them  talk.  Their  very  phraseology  is  as  of  a 
different  world. 

Augustus  has  not  been  drunk  since  the  night 
at  Harley,  but  often  I  think  his  eyes  look  as 
if  he  had  had  too  much  to  drink,  and  it  is  on 
these  occasions  he  is  rude  to  me. 

I  believe  in  his  heart  he  is  very  fond  of  me 
still,  but  his  habit  of  bullying  and  blustering 
often  conceals  it. 

He  continually  accuses  me  of  being  a  cold 
statue,  and  regrets  that  he  has  married  a  lump 
of  ice.  And  when  I  ask  him  in  what  way  I  could 
please  him  better,  he  says  I  must  love  him. 

"I  told  you  before  we  were  married  that  I 
never  should,  but  I  would  be  civil  to  you/'  I 

128 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

said  to  him  at  last,  exasperated  beyond  all  en- 
durance. "You  agreed  to  the  bargain,  and  I 
do  my  best  to  keep  it.  I  never  disobey  you  or 
cross  you  in  a  single  thing,,  What  have  you  to 
complain  of?" 

"Everything!"  he  said,  in  a  fury,  thumping 
the  table  so  hard  that  a  little  Dresden  -  china 
figure  fell  down  and  broke  into  pieces  on  the 
parquet  floor.  "Everything!  Your  great  eyes 
are  always  sad.  You  never  take  the  least  in- 
terest in  anything  about  any  of  us.  You  are 
docile — yes ;  and  obedient — yes ;  and  when  I  hold 
you  in  my  arms  I  might  be  holding  a  stuffed 
doll  for  all  the  response  you  make.  And  when 
I  kiss  you,  you  shudder!" 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room  excitedly. 

"Oh,  we  have  all  noticed  it!"  he  continued. 
"  You  are  polite,  and  quiet,  and — and — damned 
cold!  Does  Amelia  ever  let  herself  go  before 
you?  Never!  The  mater  herself  feels  it.  You 
are  as  different  to  any  of  us  as  if  you  came 
from  Mars!" 

"But  you  knew  that  always.  You  used  to 
tell  me  that  was  what  you  liked  about  me," 
I  said,  wearily.  "I  cannot  change  my  nature 
any  more  than — than  Amelia  can  hers." 

"Why  not,  pray?" 

"Have  you  never  thought,"  I  said,   driven 

at  last  to  defend  myself,  "that  there  may  be  a 

side  in  the  question  for  me  also?    I  feel  it  as 

badly  as  you  do — your  all  being  different  to  me." 

9  129 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

He  stopped  in  his  angry  walk  and  looked  at  me. 
This  idea  was  one  of  complete  newness  to  him. 

"Well,  you'd  better  get  out  of  it  and  change, 
for  we  sha'n't,"  he  said,  at  last.  "You  owe 
everything  to  me.  You  would  have  been  in  the 
gutter  now  if  I  had  not  had  the  generosity  to 
marry  you/' 

I  did  not  answer,  but  I  suppose  my  eyes  spoke, 
for  he  came  close  up  to  me  and  shook  his  fist 
in  my  face. 

"I'll  break  that  proud  spirit  of  yours — see  if 
I  don't!"  he  roared — "daring  to  look  at  me  like 
that!  What  good  are  you  to  me,  I  should  like 
to  know?  You  do  not  have  a  child,  and,  of  all 
things,  I  want  an  heir!" 

A  low  growl  came  from  the  hearth-rug,  where 
Roy  had  been  lying,  and  the  dear  dog  rose  and 
came  to  my  side.  I  was  afraid  he  would  fly 
at  Augustus,  shaking  his  fist  as  if  he  was  going 
to  strike  me.  I  put  my  hand  on  Roy's  soft, 
black  head  and  held  his  collar. 

In  a  moment  Augustus  turned  round  and 
rushed  to  the  door. 

"I'll  have  that  dog  poisoned,"  he  said,  as  he 
fled  from  the  room. 

I  took  up  a  volume  of  La  Rochefoucauld, 
which  was  lying  on  the  table  near  —  grand- 
mamma's copy — and  I  chanced  to  open  it  at  this 
maxim : 

"On  n'est  jamais  si  heureux  ni  si  malheureux 
qu'on  s' imagine." 

130 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

About  happiness  I  do  not  know,  but  for  the 
rest — well,  I  must  tell  myself  that  to  feel  miser- 
able is  only  foolish  imagination,  when  I  have  a 
fire,  and  food,  and  a  diamond  necklace,  and  three 
yards  of  pearls,  and  a  carriage  with  prune-and- 
scarlet  servants,  and  a  boudoir  with  mustard- 
silk  walls,  and — and  numbers  of  other  things. 

Roy  put  his  nose  into  my  hand. 

"Why  did  we  not  go  on  the  long  journey 
with  grandmamma?"  I  said  to  him.  And  then 
I  remembered  that  it  is  ridiculous  to  be  morbid 
and  dramatic,  and  so  I  rang  for  my  maid — a  dour 
Scotchwoman  whom  I  like — and  told  her  to  bring 
my  out-door  things  here  to  the  boudoir-fire.  And 
soon  Roy  and  I  were  a  mile  from  the  house. 

Lady  Tilchester  has  been  in  Scotland  almost 
ever  since  we  spent  our  four  days  at  Harley. 
When  she  comes  back  I  shall  ask  her  if  she  will 
come  over  here.  She  may  help  me  to  awake. 

I  am  sure  if  any  one  could  read  what  I  have 
written,  they  would  say  that  poor  Augustus  had 
a  great  deal  to  put  up  with  in  having  a  wife 
like  me.  Probably,  from  his  point  of  view,  I 
am  thoroughly  tiresome  and  irritating.  I  do  not 
exonerate  myself. 

After  a  brisk  walk  I  felt  better,  and  by  lunch- 
time  was  able  to  come  back  to  the  house  and 
behave  as  usual.  Augustus,  I  found,  had  gone 
to  London. 

Mrs.  Gurrage  was  uneasy.  She  dropped  her 
131 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

h's  once  or  twice,  a  sure  sign,  with  her,  of  pertur- 
bation and  excitement. 

When  the  servants  had  left  the  room  she  said 
to  Amelia: 

"  Quite  time  you  were  off  with  that  basket  for 
Mary  Higginson." 

And  Amelia  took  the  hint  meekly  and  got  up 
from  her  seat,  leaving  a  pear  unfinished. 

"  Shut  the  door,  now,  and  don't  stand  loitering 
there!"  my  mother-in-law  further  commanded. 

Amelia  is  a  poor  relation,  and  has  often  to 
put  up  with  unfinished  manners. 

"Look  here,  my  dear/'  Mrs.  Gurrage  said, 
when  she  felt  sure  we  were  alone,  "  I  don't  like 
it— and  that's  flat!" 

"What  do  you  not  like?"  I  said,  respectfully. 

"Gussie's  goings-on!  If  you  tried  to  coax 
him  more  he  would  not  be  forever  rushin'  up 
to  London  to  see  that  viscountess  of  his.  I  won- 
der you  don't  show  no  spark  of  jealousy.  Law! 
I'd  have  scratched  her  eyes  out  had  she  inter- 
fered between  me  and  Mr.  Gurrage  as  she  is  doing 
between  you  two,  even  if  she  was  a  duchess!" 

"I  do  not  understand,"  I  said. 

"Well,  you  must  have  your  eyes  glued  shut," 
Mrs.  Gurrage  continued,  emphatically.  "That 
Lad}^  Grenellen,  I  mean.  A  nice  viscountess  she 
is,  lookin'  after  other  people's  husbands !  Why, 
you  can't  never  have  even  glanced  at  the  letters 
Gussie's  got  from  her!" 

"Oh,  buto/cowrsenot!" 
132 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"Well,  I  have.  My  suspicions  began  to  be 
aroused  directly  after  you  got  back  from  Har- 
ley.  I  caught  sight  of  a  coronet  on  the  enve- 
lope" (Mrs.  Gurrage  pronounces  it  "envellup"), 
"and  I  said  to  myself,  there's  something  queer 
in  that,  Gussie  never  sayin'  a  word — he  as  would 
be  so  proud  of  a  letter  with  a  crown  on  it." 

"Yes,"  I  said.  I  felt  sorry  for  her,  she  was 
so  agitated.  All  the  veneer  knowledge  of  gram- 
mar had  left  her,  and  she  spoke  with  a  broad, 
natural  accent. 

"  The  next  one  that  came— and  never  a  word 
from  him  made  me  sure — so,  I  thought  to  my- 
self, I'll  make  certain,  and  I  opened  the  bag  my- 
self with  my  key  for  a  few  mornings — I  came 
down  early  before  him  on  purpose— and  soon 
I  sees  another  gold  crown  and  great,  sprawly 
writin'.  The  kettle  was  singing.  It  took  me 
no  time  to  get  the  gum  unstuck,  and — well  there! 
My  dear,  you  never  did!  I  blush  to  think 
of  it.  The  hussy!  She  was  thankin'  him  for 
a  diamond  bracelet.  Now  I  know  my  son  Gus- 
sie well  enough  to  know  he  did  not  give  her 
that  bracelet  for  nothing.  Then  she  said  as 
how  he  might  come  on  Tuesday  to  see  her,  as 
she  would  be  passin'  through  London  and  would 
be  at  her  town-house  for  the  day." 

"But  please  don't  tell  me — it — oh,  one  ought 
never  to  read  other  people's  letters!"  I  ex- 
claimed. 

Mrs.  Gurrage  flushed  scarlet. 
133 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"  There!  That's  just  you — your  high  and 
mighty  sentiments!  And  why,  pray,  shouldn't 
a  mother  watch  over  her  son,  even  if  his  wife 
has  not  the  spirit  to?" 

I  did  not  answer. 

"  There !  It's  been  so  from  the  first.  I  thought 
you'd  have  been  proud  and  glad  to  marry  my 
Gussie — you,  as  poor  as  a  rat!  I  don't  set  no 
store  by  our  wealth — the  Lord's  doin',  and  Mr. 
Gurrage  takin'  advantage  of  the  opportunities, 
his  partener  dyin'  youngish  —  but  I  liked  the 
idea  of  your  bein'  high-born,  and  I  was  fright- 
ened about  Gussie' s  lookin'  at  that  girl  at  the 
Ledstone  Arms.  And  you  seemed  good  and 
quiet  and  well-brought-up.  And  Gussie  just 
doted  on  you.  You  ought  to  have  jumped  at 
him,  but  you  and  your  grandma  were  that 
proud!  All  the  time  you  were  engaged  you 
were  as  haughty  as  if  you  were  honorin'  him, 
instead  of  his  honorin'  you!  Since  you've  been 
my  daughter-in-law,  I  have  no  cause  to  com- 
plain of  you,  only  it's  the  feelin',  and  your 
settin'  quiet  and  far  away,  when  a  flesh-and- 
blood  woman  would  have  clawed  that  viscount- 
ess's hair!  Gussie'd  never  have  been  after  her 
if  you'd  show'd  a  little  more  affection.  You're 
not  a  bad-lookin'  woman  yourself  if  you  wasn't 
so  white." 

"Do  let  us  understand  each  other,"  I  said. 
"I  told  your  son  from  the  first  that  I  did  not 
care  for  him.  My  grandmother  was  old  and 

134 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSiNE 

dying.  We  had  no  relations  to  depend  upon. 
I  should  have  been  left,  as  Augustus  was  un- 
chivalrous  enough  to  tell  me  this  morning, 
'in  the  gutter/  These  reasons  seemed  strong 
enough  to  my  grandmother  to  make  her  deem 
it  expedient  that  I  should  marry  some  one. 
There  was  no  time  to  choose — I  had  never  dream- 
ed in  my  life  of  disobeying  her.  She  told  me 
to  marry  Augustus.  This  situation  was  fully 
explained  to  him,  and  he  understood  and  kept 
us  to  the  bargain.  I  have  endeavored  in  every 
way  to  fulfil  my  side,  but  in  it  I  never  contem- 
plated a  supervision  of  his  letters." 

"Oh,  indeed!  And  why  couldn't  you  love 
him,  pray?  A  finer  young  man  doesn't  live 
for  miles  round,"  Mrs.  Gurrage  said,  with  great 
offence.  The  other  questions  seemed  in  abey- 
ance for  the  moment. 

"  We  cannot  force  our  likes  and  dislikes,"  I  said. 

"Well,  you  are  married  now,  and  part  and 
parcel  of  him,  and  a  wife's  duty  is  to  keep  her 
own  husband  from  hussies — viscountesses  or  no 
they  can  call  themselves." 

"What  do  you  wish  me  to  do?" 

"  Why,  tax  him  with  it  when  he  comes  home 
to-night.  Let  him  see  you  know  and  won't 
stand  it.  It's  all  your  fault  for  not  lovin'  him, 
and  your  duty  now's  to  keep  him  in  the  path 
of  virtue." 

"May  I  say  you  informed  me  of  his  behav- 
ior? Because  how  otherwise  could  I  account 

135 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

for  my  knowledge?  He  would  know  I  should 
never  have  thought  of  opening  or  looking  at 
his  letters  myself/' 

Mrs.  Gurrage  was  not  the  least  ashamed  of 
having  done  this,  to  me,  most  dishonorable 
thing.  She  could  not  see  the  matter  from  my 
point  of  view. 

I  remember  grandmamma  once  told  me  that 
servants  and  people  of  the  lower  classes  always 
think  it  is  their  right  to  read  any  one's  letters 
they  come  across,  so  I  suppose  my  mother-in- 
law  cannot  help  her  standard  of  honor  being 
different  to  ours. 

"  You  mustn't  make  mischief  between  my  boy 
and  me/'  she  said.  "You  must  invent  some- 
thing— think  of  some  other  way." 

"  But  I  cannot  tell  a  lie  about  it.  I  shall  say 
you  have  received  disquieting  information ;  I  will 
not  say  how.  Otherwise,  I  will  not  speak  to  him 
at  all  about  it." 

Mrs.  Gurrage  burst  into  tears. 

"There — it's  breakin'  my  heart!"  she  sobbed, 
"and  you  don't  care  a  brass  farthing!" 

"Of  course  I  care/'  I  said,  feebly. 

Oh,  grandmamma!  For  once  you  must  have 
been  wrong,  and  it  would  have  been  better 
for  me  to  have  worked  in  the  gutter!  I  won- 
der if  you  felt  that  at  the  end.  But  we  had 
given  our  word.  Augustus  held  us  to  it,  and 
no  Calincourt  had  ever  broken  his  word. 

136 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

By  the  afternoon  post  came  a  letter  from  Sir 
Antony  Thornhirst.  He  had  returned  from  Scot- 
land, he  said,  and  hoped  we  would  soon  pay  him 
our  promised  visit. 

It  was  a  short  note,  dry  and  to  the  point,  with 
nothing  in  it  unnecessary  in  the  way  of  words. 
I  do  not  know  why  I  read  it  over  several  times. 
His  writing  gave  me  comfort.  I  felt  as  if  there 
was  some  one  human  who  would  understand 
things. 

When  I  was  dressing  for  dinner,  Augustus  re- 
turned. He  shuffled  into  the  room  without  knock- 
ing, while  McGreggor  was  brushing  my  hair. 

He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  scene  of  the 
morning,  and  was  in  a  most  amiable  mood. 
He  had  brought  me  a  new  muff  chain,  in  won- 
derfully good  taste ;  he  could  never  have  chosen 
it  himself.  It  is  so  difficult  to  thank  people  for 
things  when  you  would  like  to  throw  them  in 
the  fire  rather  than  receive  them. 

However,  I  did  my  best. 

McGreggor  felt  it  her  duty  to  leave  the  room. 
Would  this  be  a  good  opportunity  to  get.  over 
what  I  had  promised  my  mother-in-law  to  say 
to  Augustus?  Oh,  it  was  an  ugly  moment. 

I  told  him,  as  simply  as  I  could,  that  his 
mother  was  worried  about  him,  fearing  he  had 
contracted  a  dangerous  friendship  with  Lady 
Grenellen,  and  that  I  hoped  he  would  make  her 
mind  at  ease  upon  the  subject. 

137 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

He  came  over  to  me  and  seized  my  wrists. 
There  was  an  air  of  conscious  pride  in  his  face. 
He  was  not  displeased  that  this  gallantry  could 
be  attributed  to  him. 

"It's  all  your  fault  if  I  do  look  at  any  one 
else/'  he  blustered;  "and,  anyway,  a  man  of  the 
world  must  have  a  little  amusement,  with  such 
a  dull,  stuck  -  up  wife  at  home  as  I  have  got. 
Cordelia  is  a  darned  sight  higher  rank  than 
you  are,  and  yet  she  does  not  give  herself  your 
mighty  airs." 

"Oh,  do  not  think  it  matters  to  me/'  I  said,  as 
calmly  as  I  could,  "only  it  worries  your  mother, 
who  spoke  to  me  about  it." 

"If  I  thought  you  cared  it  would  be  different/' 
Augustus  said,  delighted  to  grasp  at  this  excuse. 

"No,  it  would  be  just  the  same,  only  in  that 
case  it  would  grieve  me,  and  I  should  suffer, 
whereas  now — "  I  left  the  sentence  unfinished. 
I  do  not  know  why. 

"Now  you  don't  care  what  I  do  or  whether  I 
am  dead  or  alive — that  is  what  you  mean,  I  see," 
he  said,  dropping  my  wrists  and  walking  tow- 
ards the  door. 

"Augustus!"  I  called  to  him,  and  he  came 
back.  "  Listen.  You  swore  at  me  this  morning. 
You  were  very  rude  to  me,  and  you  spend  the 
day  in  London  with  another  woman,  and  return 
bringing  me  a  present.  I  have  done  my  best 
not  to  resent  these  insults,  but  I  warn  you  I 
will  not  stand  any  more." 

138 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

He  became  cringing. 

"Who's  been  telling  the  mater  these  stories 
about  me?"  he  asked.  "There's  not  a  word  of 
truth  in  them.  It  is  a  queer  thing  if  a  man  may 
not  speak  to  a  woman  without  people  making 
mischief  about  it!" 

"  That  is  between  you  and  your  mother.  All 
I  would  like  to  know  is  that  you  will  not  swear 
at  me  in  future  and  will  treat  me  with  more 
civility." 

I  felt  I  could  not  continue  the  subject  of  his 
"friendship"  with  Lady  Grenellen.  The  whole 
matter  seemed  so  low. 

"Well,  you  are  a  brick,  after  all,  not  to  kick 
up  a  row,"  Augustus  said.  "So  let  us  kiss  and 
be  friends  again,  and  I  am  sorry  if  I  was  nasty 
this  morning.  There!  little  woman,  you  need 
not  be  jealous,"  and  he  patted  my  hand,  and 
then  began  twisting  the  long  waves  of  my  hair 
in  and  out  of  his  thick  fingers. 

"What  is  a  fellow  to  do  when  a  woman  falls 
in  love  with  him?"  he  continued,  with  self-con- 
scious complacency.  "He  can't  be  a  bear  to 
her,  even  though  he  is  married,  eh?" 

"  No,  it  is  only  to  his  wife  he  can  be  the  bear," 
I  said. 

Of  course,  I  ought  to  have  been  very  jeal- 
ous and  angry,  I  am  sure,  but  I  could  not  feel 
the  least  emotion.  I  only  longed  to  wrench 
my  hair  out  of  his  hands,  and  to  tell  him 
that  he  might  speak  to  and  make  love  to  whom 

139 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

he  pleased  so  long  as  he  left  me  alone  and  in 
peace. 

He  then  became  more  affectionate,  telling  me 
I  was  the  most  beautiful  woman  he  had  ever 
seen,  and  that  I  had  "  stunning  hair  "and  va- 
rious other  charms,  and  if  only  I  would  not  be 
a  lump  of  ice  he  would  never  leave  me! 

I  could  not  say,  as  I  felt,  "But  that  is  the  one 
thing  I  should  like  you  to  do/'  so  I  said  nothing 
and,  as  soon  as  I  could  get  near  the  bell  unper- 
ceived,  rang  for  McGreggor  again,  and  put  an 
end  to  the  scene. 


VI 


NEXT  morning  at  breakfast  Augustus  said: 
"As  Farrington  has  refused  for  the  I5th,  you 
had  better  write  and  ask  that  fellow  Thornhirst 
— your  cousin.  They  tell  me  he  is  a  capital  shot, 
and  I  want  my  birds  killed  this  year/' 

The  year  before,  apparently,  the  party  had 
been  composed  of  indifferent  marksmen,  and  the 
head  keeper  had  spoken  rather  sarcastically  upon 
the  subject. 

Augustus,  when  not  bullying  them,  stands  in 
great  awe  of  his  servants. 

"I  am  afraid,  with  only  this  short  notice, 
there  is  little  chance  of  Sir  Antony  being  disen- 
gaged/' I  remarked. 

I  somehow  felt  as  if  I  did  not  want  him  to 
come  to  Ledstone.  He  would  be  so  ridiculously 
out  of  place  here. 

"A  keen  shot  would  throw  over  any  invita- 
tion he  had  had  previously  for  such  a  chance 
as  my  two  best  days/'  Augustus  replied,  pom- 
pously, helping  himself  to  a  second  kidney  and 
smearing  it  with  mustard.  "You  just  write  this 
morning,  and  ask  him  to  wire  reply/' 

"Very  well/'  I  said,  reluctantly.  He  would 
141 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

certainly  be  engaged  though,  I  need  not  fear.  "  I 
had  a  note  from  him  yesterday,  saying  he  had 
returned  from  Scotland,  and  asking  us  to  go  over 
soon  and  pay  our  promised  visit  to  dine  and  sleep." 

"There!  I'll  bet  he  was  fishing  for  an  invita- 
tion to  this  shoot,"  said  Augustus,  triumphantly. 
And,  not  content  with  the  mustard  he  had  al- 
ready plastered  the  kidney  with,  he  shook  pepper 
over  it,  heaping  it  up  upon  his  knife  first  and 
agitating  that  implement  with  his  fork  to  make 
the  pepper  fall  evenly.  I  do  not  know  why  these 
details  of  the  way  he  eats  should  irritate  me  so. 

"Now,  mind  you  catch  the  early  post,"  he 
continued,  "and  tell  him  who  the  party  are." 

At  fifteen  minutes  to  eleven  I  found  myself 
still  staring  irresolutely  at  the  sheet  of  note- 
paper  lying  before  me  on  the  writing-table  in 
my  boudoir.  It  had  the  date  written,  and  "  Dear 
Sir  Antony."  The  rest  was  a  blank. 

The  little,  brand  -  new  Dresden  clock  on  the 
mantel -piece  chimed  the  three-quarters.  The 
post  leaves  at  eleven.  I  took  up  the  pen  and 
dashed  at  it. 

"Eight  guns  are  going  to  shoot  partridges 
here  on  the  I5th  of  October,  and  Augustus  will 
be  very  pleased  if  you  will  make  the  ninth," 
I  wrote.  Could  anything  be  more  bete  ?  "  Please 
wire  reply,  and  believe  me,  yours  sincerely — " 
I  hesitated  again.  Must  I  sign  myself  "Am- 
brosine  de  Calincourt  Gurrage  "?  The  strangest 
reluctance  came  over  me. 

142 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

It  has  always  been  a  disagreeable  moment 
when  I  have  had  to  write  "Gurrage/'  but  never 
so  disagreeable  as  now. 

"A.  de  C.  G./'  I  began.  No,  initials  would 
not  do — "urrage, "  I  added,  and  the  distance 
between  the  "G"  and  the  "u"  showed,  I  am 
afraid,  that  there  was  something  unnatural  about 
my  signature. 

"  No  one  would  accept  such  a  stupid  invitation 
as  that/'  I  said  to  myself,  hopefully,  as  I  folded 
the  sheet  and  put  it  in  the  envelope.  But  by  ten 
o'clock  next  day  a  telegram  was  handed  to  me : 

"Very  pleased  to  come  on  15th.  Many  thanks. — 
ANTONY  THORNHIRST. 

So  he  will  see  the  stuffed  bears,  and  the  negro 
figures,  and  the  Tottenham  Court  Road  Louis 
XV.  drawing-rooms,  after  all,  whether  I  wish 
it  or  no! 

Whether  I  wish  it  or  no  ! 

.  Augustus  was  delighted — not  so  much  at  the 
acceptance  of  this  guest,  but  his  own  wonderful 
prehension. 

" There!    I  told  you  he'd  jump  at  it/'  he  said. 

For  several  days  after  this  a  good  deal  of 
my  time  was  taken  up  by  my  mother-in-law's 
advice  and  directions  as  to  how  I  should  rule 
the  house  during  her  absence  at  Bournemouth, 
where  she  would  be  until  she  returned  to  spend 
Christmas  with  us. 

143 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

It  was  a  great  wrench,  one  could  see,  to  Mrs. 
Gurrage  to  relinquish  even  for  this  short  two 
months  her  rule  at  Ledstone.  But  she  was  in 
so  good  a  temper  with  me  for  what  she  consid- 
ered I  had  done  in  bringing  Augustus  back  "to 
the  path  of  duty"  (we  have  heard  no  more  of 
Lady  Grenellen)  that  she  bestowed  upon  me  her 
sceptre  with  a  good  grace. 

At  last  the  day  came  when  Amelia,  carrying 
the  parrot,  followed  her  into  the  brougham. 

Augustus  had  preceded  them  to  the  station, 
and  with  infinite  fuss  of  maids  and  footman, 
and  stray  card-board  boxes,  and  final  directions, 
the  whole  party  disappeared  down  the  drive,  and 
I  was  left  standing  on  the  red-granite  steps. 

A  sudden  sense  of  exaltation  came  over  me. 

I  was  alone  for  the  first  time  since  my  wedding ! 

It  would  be  evening  before  Augustus  could 
return  from  seeing  them  off  in  London. 

There  was  almost  one  whole  day.  What  should 
I  do?  Where  should  I  go? 

Roy  even  barked  with  pleasure. 

As  I  turned  back  into  the  house,  the  butler 
informed  me  Hephzibah  —  Mrs.  Prodgers  —  was 
waiting  to  see  me. 

Dear  old  nurse!  She  comes  up  rarely.  She 
is  radiantly  happy  with  her  grocer's  man,  and 
I  think  it  grieves  her  to  see  me. 

To-day  it  was  to  tell  me  that  she  had  had  an 
accident  with  one  of  the  Sevres  cups,  a  chip 
having  appeared  in  the  handle. 

144 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

She  almost  cried  over  it. 

"Oh!  If  madam  could  know!"  she  said;  then, 
"  I  dearly  wish  you  would  come  back  just  to  see 
how  I  have  kept  things/'  she  added. 

"Oh,  Hephzibah,  I  will  some  day,  but  do  not 
ask  me  yet !  I — I  should  so  miss  grandmamma. " 

"You — you're  happy,  Miss  Ambrosine?"  she 
faltered,  timidly.  "Madam  always  knew  best, 
you  know.  -  But  I  had  a  dream  last  night  of  your 
father,  and  he  shook  his  fist  at  us — right  there." 

"Papa!"  I  felt  startled.  Our  settled  convic- 
tion had  been  so  long  that  he  was  dead.  "  You 
dreamed  of  papa?  Oh!  Hephzibah,  if  he  should 
still  be  alive!"  I  cried. 

"There,  there,"  she  said,  uneasily.  "It  is 
too  late,  anyway,  my  deary,  but  he'll  understand 
that  we  could  none  of  us  stand  against  madam 
— if  he  should  come  back,  ever.  He — he — won't 
blame  us." 

I  did  not  ask  her  what  he  should  blame  us  for 
— her,  poor  soul !  for  having  been  unable  to  keep 
me  with  her,  free ;  me  for  having  submitted  to  the 
mutilation  of  my  own  life.  Would  papa  blame 
us  for  this? 

Kind,  awkward,  abrupt  papa! 

Hephzibah  glanced  round  the  room.  It  is  the 
first  time  she  had  been  in  my  boudoir  since  it 
was  finished. 

"  Why  won't  you  have  up  some  of  your  things?" 
she  said,  at  last.  "It  don't  look  like  you,  this 
grand  place." 

145 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"  No,  it  is  not  very  like  me,  is  it?  But  you  see 
everything  is  changed,  and  they  would  not  do 
mixed,  the  old  and  the  new.  I  am  a  new  person/' 
I  sighed.  "See — this  book  is  the  only  thing  I 
brought  with  me,  besides  the  miniature  of  my 
great -great -grandmother/'  and  I  took  up  La 
Rochefoucauld  tenderly. 

"It  don't  feel  like  home,"  said  .Hephzibah, 
and  then  she  suddenly  burst  into  tears. 

"Oh,  my  deary!"  she  sobbed.  "And  you  so 
beautiful,  and  pale,  and  proud,  and  never  say- 
ing a  word,  and  they  are  none  of  them  fit  to 
black  your  boots." 

"Oh,  hush,  hush,  Hephzibah!"  I  said. 

My  voice  calmed  her.  She  looked  round  as 
though  afraid  that  grandmamma  would  come  in 
and  scold  her  for  crying. 

"There!  I  am  an  old  fool!"  she  whimpered. 
"  But  it  is  being  so  happy  myself  and  knowing 
what  real  love  is  that  makes  me  cry." 

This  picture  of  my  dear  old  nurse  as  the  hero- 
ine of  a  real  love  story  was  so  pathetically  comic 
that  a  lump,  half  tears,  half  laughter,  rose  in  my 
own  throat. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  are  happy,  Hephzibah," 
I  said,  unsteadily.  "And  of  course  I  am  happy, 
too.  Come — I  will  show  you  the  beautiful  chain 
Mr.  Gurrage  gave  me  lately,  and  a  set  of  new 
rings,  a  ruby,  a  sapphire,  and  a  diamond,  each 
stone  as  big  as  a  peanut." 

Hephzibah  had  not  lived  with  grandmamma 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

for  years  without  acquiring  a  certain  tact.  She 
spoke  no  more  of  things  that  could  emotion  us, 
and  soon  we  parted,  smiling  grimly  at  each 
other. 

But  the  sense  of  exaltation  was  gone. 

I  could  fly  a  little,  like  a  bird  round  a  large 
aviary.  The  bars  were  there  beyond. 


vn 


IT  was  odious  weather,  the  afternoon  of  the 
I5th.  Our  eight  guns  had  arrived  in  time  for 
tea,  some  with  wives,  some  without — one  with  a 
playful,  giddy  daughter.  Men  predominated. 

There  were  some  two  or  three  decent  people 
from  the  county  round.  The  remainder,  com- 
mercial connections,  friends  of  the  past. 

One  terrible  woman,  with  parted,  plastered 
hair  and  an  aggressive  voice  and  rustling  silks, 
dominated  the  conversation.  She  is  the  wife 
of  the  brother  of  the  late  Mr.  Gurrage's  part- 
ner who  "died  youngish/' 

This  couple  come  apparently  every  year  to  the 
best  partridge  drive.  "Dodd"  is  their  name. 

Mrs.  Dodd  was  extremely  ill  at  ease  among 
the  other  ladies,  but  was  determined  to  let  them 
know  that  she  considered  herself  their  superior 
in  every  way. 

At  the  moment  when  she  was  recounting, 
in  a  strident  voice,  the  shortcomings  of  one  of 
her  local  neighbors,  the  butler  announced  : 

"Sir  Antony  Thornhirst." 

Our  ninth  gun  had  arrived. 

"So  good  of  you  to  ask  me/'  he  said,  as  he 
148 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

shook  hands,  and  his  voice  sounded  like  smooth 
velvet  after  the  others.  And  for  a  minute  there 
was  a  singing  in  my  ears. 

"  Jolly  glad  to  see  you/'  Augustus  blustered. 
"What  beastly  weather!  You  motored  over,  I 
suppose?" 

Sir  Antony  sat  down  by  me. 

I  remembered  the  ways  he  would  be  accus- 
tomed to  and  did  not  introduce  him  to  any  one. 

He  had  exchanged  casual  "How  do  you  do's" 
with  the  neighbors  he  knew. 

1  poured  him  out  some  tea. 

"I  don't  drink  it,"  he  said,  "but  give  me 
some,  and  sugar,  and  cream,  and  anything  that 
will  take  time  to  put  in. " 

I  laughed. 

"  It  is  very  long  since  we  met  at  Harley,  and 
I  began  to  think  you  were  going  to  forget  me 
again,  Comtesse!" 

"Is  that  why  you  came  here?" 

"Yes — and  because  they  tell  me  your  keep- 
er can  show  at  least  a  hundred  and  fifty  brace 
of  partridges  each  day!" 

"Augustus  was  right,  then." 

"What  about?" 

"He  said  you  would  come  because  of  the 
number  of  the  birds.  I — I — felt  sure  you  would 
be  engaged." 

"  Your  note  was  not  cordial  nor  cousinly,  and 
I  was  engaged,  but  the  attraction  of  the  game, 
as  Mr.  Gurrage  says,  decided  me." 

149 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

His  smile  had  never  looked  so  mocking  nor 
his  eyes  so  kind. 

"  Might  I  trouble  you  for  a  second  cup,  please, 
Mrs.  Gussie?"  the  female  Dodd  interrupted, 
loudly,  from  half  across  the  room.  "Mr.  Mc- 
Cormack  is  taking  it  over  to  you.  And  a  little 
stronger  this  time,  please.  I  don't  care  for  this 
new-fangled  taste  for  weak  tea  —  dish-water,  I 
call  it — only  fit  for  the  jaded  digestions  of  worn- 
out  worldly  women." 

"Who  owns  this  fog-horn?"  my  kinsman 
whispered.  "  Will  it  come  out  shooting  to-mor- 
row? The  game-book  record  will  be  consider- 
ably lower  if  so!" 

"It  won't  shoot;  it  will  only  lunch/'  I  whis- 
pered back. 

Somehow,  my  spirits  had  risen.  I  loved  to 
sit  and  laugh  there  with — Antony.  (I  think  of 
him  as  Antony,  now  we  are  cousins,  I  must 
remember.) 

I  poured  out  the  blackest  tea  I  could,  and 
inadvertently  put  a  lump  of  sugar  into  it.  I 
am  afraid  I  was  not  attending. 

Mr.  McCormack,  a  big,  burly  youth,  with  a 
red  face  and  fearfully  nervous  manners,  stood 
first  on  one  foot,  then  on  the  other,  while  he 
waited  for  the  cup,  which,  eventually,  he  took 
back  to  Mrs.  Dodd. 

All  this  time  Antony  was  sitting  talking  to 
me  in  his  delightfully  lazy  way,  quite  undis- 
turbed by  any  one  else  in  the  room.  He  has 

150 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

exactly  grandmamma's  manner  of  finding  a 
general  company  simply  furniture. 

He  was  just  telling  an  amusing  story  of  the 
house  in  Scotland  he  had  come  from,  when  an 
explosion  happened  at  the  other  side  of  the  fire- 
place. Loud  coughing  and  choking,  mixed  with 
a  clatter  of  teaspoons  and  china  —  and,  amid  a 
terrified  silence,  the  fog-horn  exclaimed : 

"  Surely,  Mrs.  Gussie,  I  told  you  plain  enough 
that  sugar  in  my  tea  makes  me  sick/' 

I  apologized  as  well  as  I  could,  and  repaired 
my  want  of  attention,  and  then  I  felt  my  other 
guests  must  claim  me,  so  I  whispered  to  An- 
tony: 

"Do  go  and  talk  to  Lady  Wakely,  please. 
You  are  preventing  me  from  doing  my  duty! 
I  am  listening  to  you  instead." 

"Virtuous  Comtesse!" 

But  he  rose,  and  crossed  over  to  the  fat  wife 
of  the  member  for  this  division,  and  soon  her 
face  beamed  with  smiles. 

I  soothed  Mr.  McCormack,  who  somehow  felt 
the  sugar  had  been  his  fault. 

Augustus  mollified  the  fog-horn  Dodd,  and 
peace  was  restored  all  around. 

It  is  a  long  time  between  tea  and  dinner  when 
the  days  are  growing  short.  It  was  only  half- 
past  six  when  every  excuse  for  lingering  over 
the  teacups  had  expired. 

What  on  earth  could  one  do  with  this  ill-as- 
sorted company  for  a  whole  hour? 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Augustus,  with  a  desire  to  be  extremely 
smart,  had  commanded  dinner  at  half -past 
eight. 

Mercifully,  the  decent  people  and  some  of  the 
men  played  bridge,  and  were  soon  engaged  at 
one  or  two  tables.  Augustus,  who  is  growing 
fond  of  the  game,  made  one  of  the  fourth,  thus 
leaving  five  of  our  guests  hanging  upon  my 
hands. 

"Shall  I  show  you  your  rooms?  Perhaps  you 
would  like  to  rest  before  dinner/'  I  said  to  the 
ladies,  who  were  good  enough  to  assent,  with 
the  exception  of  Mrs.  Dodd,  who  snorted  at  the 
idea  of  resting. 

"Wullie,"  she  said  to  Mr.  Dodd.  She  had 
evidently  picked  up  the  Scotch  pronunciation  of 
his  name  from  him,  a  quiet,  red-haired  man  orig- 
inally from  Glasgow.  He  was  hovering  in  the 
direction  of  one  of  the  bridge-tables.  "Wullie, 
don't  let  me  see  you  playing  that  game  of  cards. 
There  are  letters  to  be  written  to  Martha  and  my 
mother.  Come  with  me,"  she  commanded. 

Mr.  Dodd  obeyed,  and  they  retired  to  the  li- 
brary together. 

They  are  evidently  quite  at  home  here,  and 
did  not  need  any  attention  from  me. 

Antony  Thornhirst  was  the  only  other  guest 
unemployed,  and  he  immediately  rose  and  went 
to  write  letters  in  the  hall,  he  said.  He  had 
refused  to  play  bridge  on  account  of  this  im- 
portant correspondence. 

152 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

So  at  last  I  got  the  two  women  off  to  their 
rooms,  and  was  standing  irresolutely  for  a  sec- 
ond, glancing  over  the  balustrade  after  closing 
the  last  door,  when  my  kinsman  looked  up. 

"Comtesse,"  he  called,  softly,  "won't  you 
come  down  and  tell  me  when  the  post  goes?" 

I  descended  the  stairs.  He  was  standing  at 
the  bottom  by  one  of  the  negro  figures  when 
I  reached  the  last  step. 

"Have  you  not  some  quiet  corner  where  we 
might  sit  and  talk  of  our  ancestors?"  he  asked, 
with  a  comic  look  in  his  cat's  eyes.  "This 
place  is  so  draughty,  and  I  am  afraid  of  the 
bears!  And  we  should  disturb  that  loving 
couple  in  the  library  and  the  bridge  -  players 
in  the  drawing-room.  Have  you  no  sugges- 
tions for  my  comfort?  I  am  one  of  your  guests, 
too,  you  know!" 

"There  is  Mrs.  Gurrage's  boudoir,  that  has 
straight-up,  padded  chairs  and  crimson  satin, 
and  there  is  my  own,  that  is  mustard  yellow. 
Which  could  you  bear  best  before  dinner?"  I 
said,  laughing. 

"Oh!  the  yellow — mustard  is  stimulating  and 
will  give  me  an  appetite." 

So  we  walked  up  the  stairs  again  together 
and  he  followed  me  down  the  thickly  carpeted 
passage  to  my  highly  gilded  shrine. 

For  the  first  time  since  I  have  owned  it,  I  felt 
sorry  I  had  been  too  numb  to  make  it  nice.  The 
house-maids  arrange  it  in  the  morning,  and  there 

153 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

it  stays,  a  monument  of  the  English  upholsterer's 
idea  of  a  Louis  XV.  boudoir. 

As  I  told  Hephzibah,  the  little  copy  of  La 
Rochefoucauld  and  the  miniature  of  Ambrosine 
Eustasie  are  the  only  things  of  mine — my  own — 
that  are  here,  besides  all  my  new  books,  of  course. 

I  sat  down  in  the  straight-backed  sofa.  It 
has  terra-cotta  and  buff  tulips  running  over  the 
mustard  brocade.  The  gilt  part  runs  into  your 
back. 

Antony  sat  at  the  other  end. 

A  very  fat,  rich  cushion  of  "school  of  art"  em- 
broidery, with  frills,  fell  between  us.  We  looked 
up  at  the  same  moment  and  our  eyes  met,  and 
we  both  laughed. 

"You  remind  me  of  a  picture  I  bought  last 
year,"  Antony  said.  "It  was  a  little  pastel  by 
La  Tour,  and  the  last  owner  had  framed  it  in 
a  brand-new,  brilliant  gilt  Florentine  frame." 

Suddenly,  as  he  spoke,  a  sense  of  shame  came 
over  me.  I  felt  how  wrong  I  had  been  to  laugh 
with  him  about  this — my  home.  It  is  because, 
after  all  these  months,  I  cannot  realize  that  Led- 
stone  is  my  home  that  I  have  been  capable  of 
committing  this  bad  taste. 

I  felt  my  cheeks  getting  red  and  I  looked  down. 

"I  —  I  like  bright  colors,"  I  said,  defiantly. 
"  They  are  cheerful  and — and — " 

"Sweet  Comtesse!"  interrupted  Antony,  in 
his  mocking  tone,  which  does  not  anger  me. 
"Tell  me  about  your  books." 

154 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

He  got  up  lazily,  and  began  reading  the  titles 
of  a  heap  on  the  table  beyond. 

"What  strange  books  for  a  little  girl!  Who 
on  earth  recommended  you  these?" 

"  No  one.  I  knew  nothing  at  all  about  mod- 
ern books,  so  I  just  sent  for  all  and  any  I  saw 
in  the  advertisements  in  the  papers.  Most  of 
them  are  great  rubbish,  it  seems  to  me,  but  there 
are  one  or  two  I  like/' 

He  did  not  speak  for  a  few  moments. 

"  All  on  philosophy !  You  ought  to  read  nov- 
els at  your  age." 

"I  did  get  some  in  the  beginning,  but  they 
seemed  all  untrue  and  mawkish,  or  sad  and 
dramatic,  and  the  heroines  did  such  silly  things, 
and  the  men  were  mostly  brutes,  so  I  have  given 
them  up.  Unless  I  see  the  advertisement  of 
a  thrilling  burglary  or  mystery  story,  I  read 
those.  They  are  not  true,  either,  and  one  knows 
it,  but  they  make  one  forget  when  it  rains." 

"All  women  profess  to  have  a  little  taste  for 
philosophy  and  beautifully  bound  Marcus  Aure- 
liuses,  and  Maximes,  and  love  poems — clever  lit- 
tle scraps  covered  in  exquisite  bindings.  And 
one  out  of  a  thousand  understands  what  the 
letter-press  is  about.  I  am  weary  of  seeing  the 
same  on  every  boudoir  -  table,  and  yet  some  of 
them  are  delightful  books  in  themselves.  You 
have  none  of  these,  I  see." 

He  picked  up  the  La  Rochefoucauld. 

"Yes,  here  is  one,  but  this  is  an  old  edi- 
155 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

tion."  He  turned  to  the  title-leaf  and  read  the 
date,  then  looked  at  the  cover.  It  is  bound  in 
brown  leather  and  has  the  same  arms  and  cor- 
onet upon  it  that  my  chatelaine  has — the  arms 
of  Ambrosine  Eustasie  de  Calincourt  and  an 
"A.  E.  de  C."  entwined,  all  tooled  in  faded  gold. 

"The  arms  on  my  knife!"  Antony  said,  pull- 
ing it  from  his  waistcoat-pocket  and  comparing 
them. 

"My  knife/'  I  said. 

"Tell  me  all  about  her  — A.  E.  de  C.,"  he 
commanded,  seating  himself  on  the  sofa  again. 

"She  was  my  great-great-grandmother,  and 
was  guillotined.  See — I  will  show  you  her  min- 
iature/' and  I  took  it  from  its  case  on  the  writ- 
ing-table. I  have  had  a  leather  covering  made 
to  keep  safe  the  old,  paste  frame.  It  has  doors 
that  shut,  and  I  don't  let  her  look  too  much  at 
the  mustard-yellow  walls,  my  pretty  ancestress. 

"What  an  extraordinary  likeness!"  Antony 
exclaimed,  as  he  looked  at  it.  "  Are  you  sure  I 
am  not  dreaming  and  you  are  not  your  own 
great-great-grandmother?" 

"  No,  I  am  myself.  But  I  am  supposed  to  be 
like  her,  though." 

"  It  is  the  very  image  of  you.  She  has  your 
air  and  carriage  of  the  head,  and — and — "  he 
looked  at  it  very  carefully  under  the  electric 
light  which  sprouts  from  a  twisted  bunch  of 
brass  lilies  on  the  wall,  their  stalks  suggest- 
ing a  modern  Louis  XV.  nightmare. 

156 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"And  what?" 

"Well,  never  mind.  Now  I  want  to  hear  her 
story/'  And  we  both  sat  down  again  for  the 
third  time  on  the  tulip-sofa. 

I  told  him  the  history  just  as  I  had  told  him 
the  outline  of  my  life  the  day  in  the  Harley 
woods.  Only,  as  then  I  felt  I  was  speaking  of 
another  person,  now  I  seemed  to  be  talking  of 
myself  when  I  came  to  the  part  of  walking  up 
the  guillotine  steps. 

"And  so  they  cut  her  head  off — poor  little 
lady!"  said  Antony,  when  I  had  finished,  and 
he  looked  straight  into  my  eyes. 

The  pillow  of  art-needlework  and  frills  had 
fallen  to  the  floor  —  even  it  could  not  remain 
comfortably  on  the  hard  seat!  There  was  noth- 
ing between  us  on  the  sofa. 

Antony  leaned  forward,  close  to  me.  His 
voice  was  strangely  moved. 

"Comtesse!"  he  began,  when  McGreggor 
knocked  at  the  door. 

"Mr.  Giirrage  is  calling  you,  ma'am,"  she 
said,  in  her  heavy,  Scotch  voice,  "and  he  seems 
in  a  hurry,  ma'am." 

"Ambrosine!"  echoed  impatiently  in  the  hall. 

"Why,  it  must  be  dressing-time!"  said  An- 
tony, calmly,  looking  at  his  watch.  "I  must 
not  keep  you,"  and  he  quietly  left  the  room  as 
Augustus  burst  in  from  my  bedroom  door. 

"Where  on  earth  have  you  been?"  he  said, 
crossly.  "That  Dodd  woman  has  been  driving 

157 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

us  all  mad!  Willie  Dodd  came  and  joined  us 
at  bridge  and  took  McCormack's  place,  and 
the  old  she-tike  came  after  him  and  chattered 
like  a  monkey  until  she  got  him  away.  Where 
were  you  that  you  did  not  look  after  her?" 

"I  was  here,  in  my  sitting-room,  talking  to 
Sir  Antony  Thornhirst,"  I  said,  almost  laugh- 
ing. The  picture  of  Mrs.  Dodd  at  the  bridge- 
table  amused  me  to  think  of.  Augustus  saw 
me  smiling,  and  he  looked  less  ruffled. 

"She  is  an  old  wretch/'  he  said.  "I  wish  I 
had  not  to  ask  Willie  Dodd  every  year,  but  busi- 
ness is  business,  and  I'll  trouble  you  to  be  civil 
to  them.  We  will  weed  out  the  whole  of  this 
lot,  gradually,  now.  The  mater  will  go  off  to 
Bournemouth  at  this  time  of  the  year,  and  so, 
by -and -by,  we  can  have  nothing  but  smart 
people." 

The  evening  passed  in  an  endless,  boring 
round.  This  sort  of  company  does  not  adapt 
itself  as  the  people  at  Harley  did.  With  my 
best  endeavors  to  be  a  good  hostess,  the  un- 
easiness of  my  guests  prevented  me  from  mak- 
ing them  feel  comfortable  or  at  home. 

Mrs.  Dodd's  impertinence  would  have  been 
insupportable  if  it  had  not  been  so  funny. 

She  complained  of  most  things — the  draughts, 
the  inconvenience  of  the  hours  of  the  train  de- 
partures, and  so  on. 

She  was  gorgeously  dressed  and  hung  with 
diamonds.  Without  being  exceptionally  stout, 

158 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

everything  is  so  tight  and  pushed-up  that  she 
seems  to  come  straight  out  from  her  chin  in  a 
kind  of  platform,  where  the  diamonds  lose  them- 
selves in  a  narrow,  perpendicular  depression 
in  the  middle. 

Antony  sat  next  me  at  dinner,  at  one  side; 
on  the  other  was  old  Sir  Samuel  Wakely.  Mr. 
Dodd  on  his  left  hand  had  Miss  Springle,  the 
playful,  giddy  daughter  of  one  of  the  guns. 

She  chaffed  him  all  the  time,  much  to  the 
annoyance  of  his  life's  partner,  who  was  sit- 
ting opposite,  and  who,  owing  to  an  erection 
of  flowers,  was  unable  to  quite  see  what  was 
going  on. 

"Yes,"  we  heard  Mr.  Dodd  say,  at  last,  "I 
nearly  bought  it  in  Paris  at  the  Exhibition. 
Eh!  but  it  was  a  beautiful  statue!" 

"I  like  statues,"  said  Miss  Springle. 

"Well,  she  was  just  a  perfect  specimen  of  a 
woman,  but  Missus  Dodd  wouldna  let  me  pur- 
chase her,  because  the  puir  thing  wasna  dressed. 
I  didna  think  it  could  matter  in  marble." 

"What's  that  you  are  saying  about  Mrs. 
Dodd?"  demanded  that  lady  from  across  the 
table,  dodging  the  chrysanthemums. 

"I  was  telling  Miss  Springle,  my  dear,  of 
the  statue  of  'Innocence'  I  wanted  to  buy  at 
the  Exhibition  at  Paris,"  replied  Mr.  Dodd, 
meekly,  "and  that  you  wouldna  let  me  on  ac- 
count of  the  scanty  clothing." 

"Innocence,  indeed!"  snorted  Mrs.  Dodd. 
159 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"Pretty  names  they  give  things  over  there! 
And  her  clothing  scant,  you  call  it,  Wullie? 
Why,  you  are  stretching  a  point  to  the  verge 
of  untruth  to  call  it  clothing  at  all — a  scarf  of 
muslin  and  a  couple  of  doves!  Anyhow,  I'll 
have  it  known  I'll  not  have  a  naked  woman  in 
my  drawing-room,  in  jnarble  or  flesh!" 

The  conversation  of  the  whole  table  was  par- 
alyzed by  her  voice.  My  eye  caught  Antony's, 
and  we  both  laughed. 

"  There,  there,  my  dear,  don't  be  even  suggest- 
ing such  things,"  said  Mr.  Dodd,  soothingly. 

"La!  Mrs.  Dodd,  you  make  me  blush,"  gig- 
gled Miss  Springle. 

I  wondered  what  Antony  thought  of  it  all, 
and  whether  he  had  ever  been  among  such  peo- 
ple before.  His  face  betrayed  nothing  after  he 
laughed  with  me,  and  he  seemed  to  be  quiet- 
ly enjoying  his  dinner,  which,  fortunately,  was 
good. 

It  was  only  for  a  few  minutes  before  we  all 
said  good-night  that  we  spoke  together  alone. 

"Shall  you  be  down  to  breakfast,  Comtesse?" 
he  asked  me. 

"Oh  yes,"  I  said.  "These  people  would  never 
understand.  They  would  think  I  was  being  de- 
liberately rude  if  I  breakfasted  in  my  room." 

"At  nine  o'clock,  then?" 

"Yes." 

"Lend  me  your  La  Rochefoucauld  to  read 
to-night?"  he  asked. 

160 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 
"With  pleasure.     I  will  have  it  sent  to  your 


room." 


"  No,  let  me  get  it  from  your  mustard  boudoir 
myself.  I  shall  be  coming  up,  probably,  to 
change  into  a  smoking-coat,  and  my  room  is 
down  that  way,  you  know." 

"Very  well/' 

So  we  said  good-night. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards,  I  was  standing  by 
my  sitting-room  fire  when  Antony  came  into 
the  room.  He  leaned  on  the  mantel-piece  beside 
me  and  looked  down  into  my  face. 

"When  will  you  come  over  to  Dane  Mount, 
Comtesse?  I  want  to  show  you  my  great-great- 
grandmother.  She  was  yours,  too,  by-the-way," 
he  said. 

"When  will  you  ask  us?" 

"In  about  a  fortnight.  I  have  to  run  about 
Norfolk  until  then.  Will  you  come  some  time 
near  the  4th  of  November?" 

"  I  shall  have  to  ask  Augustus,  but  I  dare 
say  we  can." 

He  frowned  slightly  at  the  mention  of  Au- 
gustus. 

"Of  course.  Well,  I  will  not  have  a  party, 
only  some  one  to  talk  to— your  husband.  The 
ancestors  won't  interest  him,  probably." 

"Oh!  Do  ask  Lady  Tilchester,"  I  said.  "I 
love  her." 

He  bent  down  suddenly  to  look  at  the  Dres- 
den clock. 

»  161 

• 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so.  She  will  be  entertain- 
ing herself  just  then/'  he  said,  "and  probably 
could  not  get  away.  But  leave  it  to  me.  I 
promise  to  arrange  that  Augustus  shall  not  be 
bored/' 

He  picked  up  La  Rochefoucauld  and  opened  it. 

"I  see  you  have  marked  some  of  the  max- 


imes." 


"No.  Grandmamma  and  the  Marquis  must 
have  done  that.  Look,  they  are  all  of  the  most 
witty  and  cynical  that  are  pencilled.  I  can 
hear  them  talking  when  I  read  them.  That  is 
just  how  they  spoke  to  one  another." 

He  read  aloud: 

'"C'est  une  grande  folie  de  vouloir  etre  sage 
tout  seul!'  Don't  be  'sage  tout  seul/  Comtesse. 
Let  me  keep  you  company  in  your  sagesse,"  he 
said. 

I  looked  up  at  him.  His  eyes  were  full  of 
a  quizzical  smile.  There  is  something  in  the 
way  his  head  is  set,  a  distinction,  an  air  of  com- 
mand. It  infinitely  pleases  me.  I  felt — I  know 
not  what! 

"  Now  I  will  say  good-night.  I  am  tired,  and 
it  is  getting  late,"  I  said. 

"Good -night,  Comtesse,"  and  he  walked  to 
the  door.  "I  shall  be  down  at  nine  o'clock." 

And  so  we  parted. 


VIII 

ON  the  morrow  it  had  cleared  up  and  flashes 
of  blue  sky  were  appearing.  Augustus  and 
Mr.  McCormack  had  both  had  too  much  to  drink 
the  night  before,  at  dinner,  and  were  looking, 
and  no  doubt  feeling,  mixed  and  ill-tempered. 

The  morning  was  long  after  the  shooters  had 
gone.  It  seemed  as  if  one  o'clock,  when  we  were 
to  start  for  the  lunch,  would  never  come. 

Miss  Springle  had  some  passages-at-arms 
with  Mrs.  Dodd.  They  had  all  been  down  to 
breakfast  but  Lady  Wakely  and  another  woman, 
who  were  accustomed  to  the  ways  of  the  world. 

I  had  never  seen  any  shooting  before.  The 
whole  thing  was  new  to  me.  Augustus  had 
insisted  upon  selecting  what  he  considered  a 
suitable  costume  for  me.  We  had  been  up  to 
London  several  times  together  to  try  it  on,  and, 
on  the  whole,  though  a  little  outre  in  its  checks, 
it  is  not  unbecoming. 

"Do  you  shoot,  yourself,  Mrs.  Gussie?"  Mrs. 
Dodd  asked,  when  we  assembled  in  the  hall, 
ready  to  start. 

"No;  do  you?"  I  replied. 

"  Of  course  not!  The  idea!  But,  seeing  your 
163 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

skirt  so  very  short,  I  should  have  guessed  you 
were  a  sportswoman  and  killed  the  birds  your- 
self!" and  she  sniffed  ominously. 

"Do  birds  get  killed  with  a  skirt?"  Miss 
Springle  asked,  pertly.  She  hates  Mrs.  Dodd. 
They  were  neighbors  in  Liverpool,  originally. 
"  I  thought  you  had  to  shoot  at  them?" 

Mrs.  Dodd  snorted. 

"You  will  get  awfully  muddy,  Mrs.  Dodd, 
in  your  long  cashmere,"  Miss  Springle  con- 
tinued. "And  Mr.  Dodd  told  me,  when  I  met 
him  coming  from  the  bath  this  morning,  to  be 
sure  not  to  wear  any  colors — they  frighten  the 
birds.  I  am  certain  he  will  object  to  that  yellow 
paradise-plume  in  your  hat." 

Mrs.  Dodd  looked  ready  to  fight. 

"Mr.  Dodd  had  better  talk  to  me  about  my 
hat!"  she  said,  growing  purple  in  the  face.  "I 
call  all  these  modern  sporting-costumes  indecent, 
and  when  I  was  a  girl  I  should  have  been  whipped 
for  coming  out  shooting  in  the  things  you  have 
got  on,  Miss  Springle!" 

"Really!  you  don't  say  so!"  said  Miss  Sprin- 
gle, innocently.  "  Why,  I  never  heard  they  shot 
birds  in  Liverpool,  Mrs.  Dodd." 

I  interfered.  The  expression  of  my  elder 
guest's  face  was  becoming  apoplectic. 

"Let  us  get  into  the  brake,"  I  said. 

Lady  Wakely  sat  next  me. 

"Very  unpleasant  person,  Mrs.  Dodd,"  she 
whispered,  wheezily,  as  we  drove  off.  "She 

164 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

is  here  every  year.     My  dear,  you  are  good- 
natured  to  put  up  with  her." 

Lunch  was  laid  out  in  the  barn  of  one  of  the 
farm-houses.  Augustus  had  given  orders  that 
it  should  be  of  the  most  sumptuous  description, 
and  the  chef  had  done  marvels. 

The  table  looked  like  a  wedding-breakfast 
when  we  got  there,  with  flowers  and  printed 
menus. 

The  sportsmen  were  not  long  in  making  their 
appearance.  It  was  a  rather  warm  day,  and 
Mr.  McCormack  and  Mr.  Dodd,  who  were  not 
accustomed  to  much  exercise,  I  suppose,  with- 
out ceremony  mopped  their  heads. 

Antony,  who  was  walking  behind,  with  Sir 
Samuel  Wakely,  appeared  such  an  astonish- 
ingly cool  contrast  to  them.  His  coat  did  not 
look  new,  but  as  if  it  had  seen  service.  Only 
everything  fitted  and  hung  right,  and  he  walks 
with  an  ease  and  grace  that  would  have  pleased 
grandmamma. 

Augustus  had  a  thunderous  expression  on 
his  face.  So  had  Wilks,  the  head  keeper.  Later, 
I  gathered  there  had  been  a  great  quantity  of 
birds,  but  the  commercial  friends  had  not  been 
very  successful  in  their  destruction.  In  fact,  Mr. 
Dodd  had  only  secured  two  brace,  besides  one 
of  the  beaters  in  the  shoulder,  and  a  dog. 

Antony  sat  by  me. 

"Dangerous  work,  shooting,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing, as  he  looked  at  the  menu.  "What  is 

165 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

your  average  list  of  killed  in  a  pheasant  bat- 
tue?" 

"What— what  kind  of  killed?"  I  asked,  laugh- 
ing. 

"  Guests  or  beaters  or  dogs — anything  but  the 
birds/' 

"Cutlets  ha  la  ravigotte  or  'ommard  ha  la- 
merican,  Sir  Antony?"  the  voice  of  the  first 
footman  sounded  in  our  ears. 

"Oh — er — get  me  a  little  Irish  stew  or  some 
cold  beef/'  said  Antony,  plaintively,  still  with 
the  menu  in  his  hand. 

"We've  no — Irish  stew — except  what  is  pre- 
pared for  the  beaters,  Sir  Antony/'  said  James, 
apologetically.  He  had  come  from  a  ducal 
house  and  knew  the  world.  "Shall  I  get  you 
some  of  that,  Sir  Antony?" 

"No,  don't  mind."  Then,  turning  to  me, 
"What  are  you  eating,  Comtesse?"  he  asked. 
"I  will  have  some  of  that." 

"It  is  truffled  partridge  in  aspic,"  I  said,  dis- 
agreeably. "You  can  pick  out  the  truffles  if 
you  are  afraid  of  them." 

"Truffled  partridge,  then,"  he  said  to  James, 
resignedly,  and  when  it  came  he  deliberately  ate 
the  truffles  first. 

"Hock,  claret,  Burgundy,  or  champagne,  Sir 
Antony?"  demanded  the  butler. 

"Oh— er— I  will  have  the  whole  four!" 

His  face  had  the  most  comical  expression  of 
chastened  resignation  as  he  glanced  at  me. 

166 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Griggson  poured  out  bumpers  in  the  four 
glasses. 

"I  shall  now  shoot  like  your  friend  from  Liv- 
erpool/' said  Antony,  "and  if  I  kill  your  hus- 
band and  most  of  the  guests  I  cannot  be  blamed 
for  it,"  and  he  drank  down  the  hock. 

"  Don't  be  so  foolish/'  I  said,  laughing,  in  spite 
of  having  pretended  to  be  annoyed  with  him. 

"I  would  drink  anything  rather  than  incur 
your  displeasure/'  he  said,  with  great  humility, 
as  he  took  up  the  claret.  "Must  I  eat  every- 
thing on  the  menu,  too?" 

I  appeared  not  to  hear,  and  turned  to  Mr.  Dodd, 
who  was  on  my  other  side,  his  usually  pale  face 
still  crimson  with  walking  so  fast  and  this  feast 
of  Lucullus  he  was  partaking  of. 

"I  had  bad  luck  this  morning,  Mrs.  Gussie," 
he  said,  in  a  humble  voice.  "  I  am  sorry  about 
that  man  and  dog,  and  I  am  afraid  the  gentle- 
man on  your  right  must  have  got  a  pellet  also 
— eh,  sir?"  and  he  addressed  Antony. 

"A  mere  trifle,"  said  my  neighbor  "on  the 
right/'  with  his  most  suave  air  and  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye  as  he  finished  the  claret.  "Just  a 
shot  or  two  in  the  left  arm  —  a  mere  nothing, 
when  one  considers  the  dangers  the  whole  line 
were  incurring." 

"You  were  shot  in  the  arm,  Sir  Antony?"  I 
exclaimed,  suddenly,  feeling  a  great  dislike  to 
Mr.  Dodd.  "  Oh,  but  people  should  not  shoot  if 
they  are  so  careless,  surely!" 

167 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am/'  said  Mr.  Dodd, 
huffily.  "  I  am  not  careless.  I  have  been  shoot- 
ing now  for  a  matter  of  five  years  and  only  twice 
before  have  hit  any  one/' 

"You  have  had  the  devil's  own  luck!"  said 
Antony,  beginning  the  Burgundy. 

"You  may  call  it  luck,  sir/'  said  Mr.  Dodd, 
"but  I  think  a  man  wants  a  bit  of  judgment, 
too,  to  shoot,  and  I  always  try  to  remember  where 
my  neighbors  stand.  But,  I  must  admit,  with 
pheasant  shooting  in  a  wood  it  is  more  diffi- 
cult. It  was  getting  a  little  excited  with  a  rab- 
bit which  caused  the  last  accident  I  had." 

Antony  finished  the  Burgundy. 

"Are  you  going  to  walk  with  us  afterwards, 
Comtesse?"  he  asked  me,  presently,  in  a  low 
voice,  his  eyes  still  twinkling;  "because,  if  so, 
I  advise  you  to  fortify  your  nerve  with  a  little 
orange  brandy  I  see  they  are  handing  now," 
and  he  began  the  champagne. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  about  the  whole  thing.  I 
think  it  is  perfectly  dreadful,"  I  said,  "and — 
and  I  do  hope  you  are  not  really  hurt." 

He  showed  me  his  wrist.  His  silk  shirt-sleeve 
was  wet  with  blood,  and  his  arm  also  had  streaks 
on  it,  and  just  under  the  skin  were  two  or  three 
small,  black  lumps. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am,"  I  said, 
and  my  voice  trembled.  I  felt  I  wanted  to  take 
his  arm  and  wash  the  blood  off,  and  caress  it, 
and  tell  him  how  it  grieved  me  that  he  should 

168 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

be  wounded — and  by  these  people,  too.     I  would 
like  to  have  shot  them  all. 

"Don't  look  so  distressed,  Comtesse,"  he  said. 
"It  does  not  hurt  a  bit,  and  the  whole  thing 
amuses  me.  A  very  original  character,  Mr. 
Dodd,"  and  he  finished  the  champagne. 

Augustus  walked  with  me  after  lunch  for  a 
little  when  we  started.  He  was  in  a  furious 
temper  at  the  non-slaughter  of  the  partridges. 

"By  Jove!  next  year/'  he  said,  "I'll  clear 
out  the  whole  boiling,  whether  the  mater  likes 
it  or  no,  and  have  some  of  the  people  we  met 
at  Harley.  Thornhirst  is  the  only  man  who 
has  killed  anything  great,  though  Wakely  and 
Bush  did  a  fair  share." 

I  told  him  how  dreadful  I  thought  the  acci- 
dent had  been. 

"Good  thing  it  was  not  me  he  shot,"  said 
Augustus.  "  I'd  have  fired  back.  But  the  part 
I  mind  the  most  is  the  miserable  bag.  Wilks 
is  mad.  We  both  wanted  the  record  to  go  to 
the  field ;  and  what  can  we  do?  Only  thirty-two 
brace  up  to  luncheon!" 

I  soothed  him  as  well  as  I  could. 

Mrs.  Dodd  was  puffing  behind  us.  She  had 
insisted  upon  following  with  the  guns,  although 
Lady  Wakely  and  the  two  other  elderly  women 
had  driven  back  to  Ledstone. 

The  yellow  paradise  plume  and  bright -blue 
dress  made  a  glowing  spot  of  color  on  the  brown, 
ploughed  field. 

169 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Miss  Springle  tripped  gayly  along  in  front 
with  Mr.  Dodd,  coquettishly  tapping  him  on  the 
arm  and  looking  up  in  his  face. 

Giggles  of  laughter  were  wafted  back  to  us. 
Miss  Springle  is  a  rather  pretty  girl,  with  thick, 
black  hair. 

Antony  strode  forward  and  joined  us.  Au- 
gustus dropped  behind  to  speak  to  Wilks. 

"You  must  stand  with  me/'  Antony  said. 
"I  will  protect  you  as  well  as  I  can,  and  the 
chances  are  against  the  shot  coming  my  way 
twice  in  one  day." 

He  was  so  gay.  Never  have  I  had  so  de- 
lightful a  walk.  I  cannot  write  down  what  he 
said.  If  I  try  to  remember  his  words,  I  can- 
not. It  is  the  general  impression  they  leave 
behind,  rather  than  any  actual  sentence  I  can  re- 
call, which  makes  me  feel  his  wit  is  like  grand- 
mamma's, and  it  reveals  all  the  time  his  great 
knowledge  of  books,  and  people,  and  the  world. 
And  there  is  a  lightness  which  makes  one  feel 
how  strong  and  deep  must  be  the  under-current. 

My  spirits  always  rise  when  I  am  with  him. 

Soon  we  arrived  at  the  hedge  we  were  to  stand 
behind. 

It  was  all  new  to  me,  the  whole  scene.  Out 
of  nowhere  Antony's  servant  seemed  to  spring 
with  two  guns  and  a  stick -seat,  which  he  ar- 
ranged for  me. 

Mrs.  Dodd  had  panted  after  her  husband  and 
Miss  Springle,  who  were  in  the  most  open  place; 

170 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

but  Wilks  was  unable  to  contain  himself  with 
annoyance  at  this. 

"Not  a  bird  will  face  the  line  if  the  lady's 
dress  is  seen/'  he  said,  in  despair,  as  he  passed 
us,  and  we  saw  him  unceremoniously  insist 
upon  Mrs.  Dodd  joining  Sir  Samuel  Wakely, 
who  was  at  the  thickest  corner,  next  us. 

"The  air  must  be  black  with  the  language 
Wakely  is  using,  I  will  bet/'  said  Antony. 

And  then  the  partridges  began  to  come. 

"There's  a  burrd!  There's  a  burrd!"  shout- 
ed Mr.  Dodd,  excitedly,  pointing  with  his  gun 
straight  at  Sir  Samuel's  head. 

"Damn  you,  sir!"  yelled  Sir  Samuel  back 
to  him.  "It  is  pure  murder  the  way  you  hold 
your  gun." 

"  I'll  trouble  you  not  to  swear  at  my  husband !" 
roared  Mrs.  Dodd. 

A  huge  covey  came  over  at  the  moment,  but 
the  voices  and  the  bright-blue  dress  attracted 
their  attention,  and  they  all  wheeled  off  to  the 
right,  so  that,  but  for  two  stray  birds  killed  by 
Antony,  this  end  of  the  line  found  the  drive  a 
blank. 

Augustus's  rage  knew  no  bounds. 

He  came  up  to  me  as  if  it  was  my  fault. 

"Take  that  old  woman  home  this  moment, 
Ambrosine,"  he  said,  furiously.  "Do  you  hear? 
— this  minute!"  and  I  was  obliged  to  go  up  to 
Mrs.  Dodd  and  suggest  our  returning.  I -was 
tired,  I  said. 

171 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"I'll  not  leave  Wullie  with  that  minx/'  she 
replied,  firmly.  "You  can  go  without  me,  Mrs. 
Gussie.  I'll  not  take  it  rude  of  you  at  all."  I 
tried  to  explain  that  I  thought  we  were  all  a  little 
in  the  way  and  had  better  return  to  the  house; 
but  Miss  Springle,  who  joined  us,  would  not 
hear  of  such  a  thing. 

"Mr.  Dodd  says  he  can't  get  on  without  me/' 
she  said,  coyly,  whereupon  Mrs.  Dodd  gurgled 
with  rage. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  all  be  shot  if  you  delay 
here,"  said  Antony,  coming  to  my  rescue.  "We 
are  going  to  take  the  next  beat  at  right  angles, 
and  you  are  all  in  the  full  line." 

"Goodness,  gracious  me!"  screamed  Mrs. 
Dodd.  "Oh,  gentlemen,  save  me!" 

And  she  rushed  wildly  towards  Augustus, 
who  was  coming  up,  her  dress  held  high,  show- 
ing a  pair  of  opulent  ankles  and  wide,  flat  feet 
covered  in  thin,  kid  boots,  while  a  white  cotton 
stocking  appeared  upon  the  stove-pipe  calf  that 
was  visible  above. 

The  yellow  paradise  plume  floated  in  the  wind, 
the  hat  having  become  a  little  deranged  by  her 
rapid  flight. 

"Gussie  Gurrage!"  she  yelled.  "Oh,  do  you 
hear  that?  The  gentleman  says  I'll  be  shot!" 

And  she  precipitated  herself  into  the  unwilling 
arms  of  Augustus. 

He  has  not  manners  enough  to  stand  such  an 
assault.  His  face  flushed  with  annoyance,  and 

172 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

the  savage  look  grew  round  his  mouth.     I  waited 
for  the  explosion. 

"  Confound  it,  Mrs.  Dodd !"  he  said.  "  Women 
have  no  business  out  shooting,  and  you  had  bet- 
ter clear  out  and  go  home." 

"I've  never  been  so  insulted  in  my  life!"  she 
snorted,  as  we  walked  back  to  the  farm,  after  a 
confused  scene,  in  which  Mr.  Dodd  and  Sir  Sam- 
uel and  Augustus,  Miss  Springle,  and  Mrs.  Dodd 
herself  had  all  talked  at  once. 

"Never  so  insulted  in  my  life!  Sent  away  as 
if  I  wasn't  wanted.  If  I  hadn't  known  Gussie 
Gurrage  since  he  was  a  baby  I'd  have  boxed 
his  ears,  that  I  would!" 

I  remained  in  haughty  silence.  I  feared  I 
should  burst  into  screams  of  laughter  if  I  at- 
tempted speech. 

Miss  Springle  had  evaded  us  at  the  last  minute, 
and  could  be  seen  once  more  by  Mr.  Dodd's  side 
as  we  drove  past  the  shooters  again  on  the  road. 

A  meek  woman,  sister  of  Mr.  McCormack,  a 
Mrs.  Broun  by  name,  who  had  quietly  stood  by 
her  husband  and  had  not  been  in  any  one's 
way,  now  caught  Mrs.  Dodd's  wrath. 

''You've  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  Jessie 
Springle's  bringing  up,  I've  heard,  Mrs.  Broun, 
since  her  mother  died,  and  a  disgrace  she  is  to 
you,  I  can  testify." 

"Oh,  dear  Mrs.  Dodd,  how  can  you  say  such 
a  thing?"  said  Mrs.  Broun,  almost  crying.  "'Jes- 
sie is  a  dear  girl,  so  full  of  fun." 

173 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

"  Fun,  you  call  it,  Mrs.  Broun !  Looking  after 
other  women's  husbands!  How  would  you  like 
her  to  be  flirting  with  your  Tom?" 

(This  is  the  spirit  my  mother-in-law  would  ap- 
prove of.) 

"Oh,  it  is  quite  immodest,  talking  so,  Mrs. 
Dodd!"  replied  the  meek  lady,  flushing  scarlet. 
"  Why,  no  one  would  ever  think  of  such  things — 
a  girl  to  flirt  with  a  married  man!" 

"That's  all  you  know  about  it,  Mrs.  Broun. 
I  tell  you  that  girl  will  upset  your  home  yet! 
Mark  my  words;  but  Til  not  have  her  running 
after  Wullie,  anyway." 

The  situation  was  becoming  very  strained. 
I  felt  bound  to  interfere  by  some  banal  remarks 
about  the  scenery,  and  finally  we  arrived  back 
at  Ledstone  and  I  got  rid  of  them  by  conducting 
them  to  their  rooms. 


IX 


IT  poured  rain  again  before  the  sportsmen  re- 
turned, and  they  were  more  or  less  wet  and  cross. 
Antony  went  straight  to  his  room  to  change, 
and  so  did  the  two  other  decent  men.  But  the 
commercial  friends  stayed  as  they  were,  muddy 
boots  and  all,  and  were  grouped  round  the  fire, 
smelling  of  wet,  hot  tweed,  when  Mrs.  Dodd  sailed 
into  the  room. 

"Wullie,"  she  said,  sternly,  "you've  no  more 
sense  than  a  child,  and  if  it  was  not  for  me  you'd 
have  been  in  your  coffin  these  five  years.  Go 
up-stairs  this  minute  and  change  your  boots." 
And  off  she  sent  him,  but  not  without  a  parting 
shot  from  Miss  Springle. 

"  Mind  you  put  on  a  blue  velvet  smoking-suit, 
Mr.  Dodd,  dear.  I  do  love  gentlemen  in  smoking- 
suits,"  she  said,  giggling. 

Tea  was  a  terrible  function.  Oh,  the  difference 
to  the  merry  tea  at  Harley! 

Lady  Wakely,  sleepily  knitting  and  address- 
ing an  occasional  observation  to  her  neighbor; 
the  rest  of  the  women  silent  as  the  grave,  except 
Miss  Springle  and  Mrs.  Dodd,  who  sparred  to- 
gether like  two  cats. 

175 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

The  men  could  talk  of  nothing  but  the  war 
news  which  had  come  by  the  afternoon  post. 

There  was  a  gloom  over  the  whole  party.  How 
on  earth  was  I  to  escape  from  the  oppression? 
They  were  not  people  of  the  world,  who  would 
be  accustomed  to  each  person  doing  what  they 
pleased.  They  expected  to  be  entertained  all 
the  time.  To  get  away  from  them  for  a  mo- 
ment I  would  be  obliged  to  invent  some  elabo- 
rate excuse. 

Antony  had  not  appeared  upon  the  scene, 
or  Augustus,  either. 

At  last — at  last  Lady  Wakely  put  her  knitting 
in  a  bag  and  made  a  move  towards  the  door. 

"I  shall  rest  now/'  she  said,  in  her  fat,  kind 
voice,  and  I  accompanied  her  from  the  room, 
leaving  the  rest  of  my  guests  to  take  care  of 
themselves.  I  felt  I  should  throw  the  cups  at 
their  heads  if  I  stayed  any  longer. 

There,  in  the  hall,  was  Antony,  quietly  read- 
ing the  papers.  His  dark-blue  and  black  silk 
smoking-suit  was  extraordinarily  becoming.  He 
looked  like  a  person  from  another  planet  after 
the  people  I  had  left  in  the  drawing-room. 

He  rose  as  we  passed  him. 

"Some  very  interesting  South  African  news/' 
he  said,  addressing  me,  and  while  I  stopped  to 
answer  him  Lady  Wakely  went  up  the  stairs 
alone. 

"  The  draughts  are  dreadful  here  again,  Com- 
tesse/'  he  said,  plaintively. 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"Why  did  you  not  go  into  the  library,  then/' 
I  said,  "  or  the  billiard-room,  or  one  of  the  draw- 
ing-rooms?" 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  might  pass  this  way 
and  would  give  me  your  advice  as  to  which 
room  to  choose/' 

I  laughed.  "  The  library,  then,  I  suggest/'  and 
I  started  as  if  to  go  up  the  stairs. 

"  Comtesse !  You  would  not  leave  me  all  alone, 
would  you?  You  have  not  told  me  half  enough 
about  our  ancestors  yet/' 

"  Oh,  I  am  tired  of  the  ancestors !"  and  I  mount- 
ed one  step  and  looked  back. 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  would  help  me  to 
tie  up  my  wrist." 

I  came  down  instantly.  If  he  were  pretend- 
ing, I  would  punish  him  later. 

"  Come,"  I  said,  and  led  the  way  to  the  library, 
where  we  found  the  fire  had  gone  out. 

How  ashamed  I  felt  of  the  servants!  This 
must  never  happen  again. 

"Not  here;  it  is  cold  and  horrid."  And  he  fol- 
lowed me  on  into  my  mother-in-law's  boudoir. 
There  were  no  lights  and  no  fire. 

My  wrath  rose. 

"It  must  be  your  mustard  sitting-room,  after 
all,"  said  Antony.  So  up  the  stairs  we  went. 
Here,  at  all  events,  the  fire  blazed,  and  the 
room  glowed  with  brilliancy. 

Roy  was  lying  on  the  rug  and  seemed  en- 
chanted to  see  us. 

177 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"Is  it  really  hurting  you?"  I  said,  hurriedly. 

"  No,  not  hurting — only  a  stupid  little  scratch." 
And  he  undid  his  shirt-cuff  and  turned  up  his 
sleeve. 

"Oh!"  I  exclaimed.     "Oh,  I  am  so  sorry!" 

One  of  the  shots  had  grazed  the  skin  and 
made  a  nasty  cut,  which  was  plastered  up  with 
sticking-plaster  and  clumsily  tied  with  a  hand- 
kerchief. 

"My  servant  is  not  a  genius  at  this  sort  of 
thing.  Will  you  do  it  better,  Comtesse?" 

I  bound  the  handkerchief  as  neatly  as  I  could, 
and,  for  some  unexplained  reason,  as  once  be- 
fore at  Harley,  my  heart  beat  in  my  throat.  I 
could  feel  his  eyes  watching  me,  although  my 
head  was  bent. 

I  did  not  look  up  until  the  arm  was  finished. 
His  shirt  was  of  the  finest  fine.  There  was 
some  subtle  scent  about  his  coat  that  pleased 
me.  A  faint  perfume,  as  of  very  good  cigars — 
nothing  sweet  and  effeminate,  like  a  woman. 
It  intensely  appealed  to  me.  I  felt — I  felt — oh, 
I  do  not  know  at  all  what  my  feelings  meant. 
I  tried  to  think  of  grandmamma,  and  how  she 
would  have  told  me  to  behave  when  I  was  ner- 
vous. I  had  never  been  so  nervous  in  my  life 
before. 

"You — you  will  not  shoot  to-morrow?"  I  fal- 
tered. 

"Of  course  I  shall.  You  must  not  trouble 
about  this  at  all,  Comtesse.  It  is  the  merest 

178 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

scratch,  and  was  a  pure  accident.  He  is  an 
excellent  fellow,  Mr. — er — Dodd  is  his  name,  is 
it  not?  Only  pity  is  he  did  not  shoot  his  wife, 
poor  fellow!" 

Again,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  the  admi- 
rable sang-froid  of  my  kinsman  carried  things 
smoothly  along.  I  felt  quite  calmed  when  I 
looked  up  at  him. 

"We  won't  try  sitting  on  that  sofa  to-night/' 
I  laughed.  "This  is  a  fairly  comfortable  arm- 
chair. You  are  an  invalid.  You  must  sit  in  it. 
See,  I  shall  sit  here/'  and  I  drew  a  low  seat  of  a 
dreadfully  distorted  Louis  XV.  and  early  Vic- 
torian mixed  style  that  the  upholsterer,  when 
bringing  the  things,  had  described  to  me  as  a 
"sweet,  pretty  lady's-chair/' 

Antony  sat  down.  The  light  from  the  lily 
electric  branches  made  the  gray  in  his  hair  shine 
silver.  He  looked  tired  and  not  so  mocking  as 
usual. 

"I  have  settled  with  your  husband  when  you 
are  to  come  to  Dane  Mount.  He  says  the  4th  of 
November  will  suit  him/' 

"We  shall  drive  over,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes." 

After  that  we  neither  of  us  spoke  for  a  few 
moments. 

"Did  you  read  La  Rochefoucauld  last  night?" 
I  asked,  presently. 

"No." 

"Well,  why  did  you  ask  for  it,  then?" 
179 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"I  had  a  very  good  reason/' 

One  could  never  describe  the  expression  of 
Antony's  face.  If  one  goes  on  saying  "mock- 
ing/' or  "cynical/'  or  "ironical/'  or  "quizzical," 
it  gives  no  impression  of  what  it  is.  It  is  a 
mixture  of  all  four,  and  yet  laughing,  and — and 
— tender,  and  insouciant,  and  gay.  He  is  him- 
self, and  there  could  never  be  any  one  like  him. 
One  feels  as  if  all  common  things  must  vanish 
and  shrivel  up  before  his  style  of  wit. 

One  could  think  of  him  as  finishing  his  game 
of  chess  calmly  while  the  officers  of  the  Terror 
waited  to  conduct  him  to  the  guillotine.  He  is 
exactly — oh,  but  exactly! — grandmamma's  idea 
of  a  gentleman.  I  wish  she  had  seen  more  of 
him. 

There  is  nothing  poseur  or  dramatic  about 
him.  He  is  quite  simple,  although  he  laughs 
at  things  all  the  time.  I  seem  to  have  learned 
more  of  the  world,  and  the  tone  of  everything, 
just  talking  to  him,  than  from  all  the  books  I 
have  read  lately.  What  would  it  be  like  if  he 
were  interested  in  anything  intensely,  if  some- 
thing moved  him  deeply,  if  he  really  cared? 

As  I  sat  there  I  thought  of  many  things.  An 
atmosphere  of  home  had  suddenly  come  into  the 
room.  I  could  almost  believe  I  could  hear  grand- 
mamma's voice. 

"What  are  you  thinking  of  so  seriously,  Com 
tesse?"  he  asked,  lazily. 

"I  was  wondering — " 
180 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"Well?" 

"I  was  wondering  if  anything  really  mattered 
in  life;  if  one  could  grow  old  and  remain  numb 
all  the  time;  if  things  are  real;  if  —  oh,  does 
anything  matter?  Tell  me,  you  who  know/' 

"Not  many  things.  Later,  you  will  regret 
some  things  you  have  not  done — very  few  you 
have/' 

"  I  have  been  reading  metaphysics  lately,  and, 
it  seems,  one  could  reason  one's  self  into  believ- 
ing nothing  is  real.  One  of  my  books  said  the 
ancient  Cynic  philosophers  doubted  for  the  sake 
of  investigation  and  the  moderns  investigate  for 
the  sake  of  doubting.  What  does  it  all  mean?" 

He  began  stroking  Roy's  ears.  He  had  put 
his  dear  black-and-tan  head  on  Antony's  knee. 

"  It  means  a  great  many  words.  Do  not  trouble 
your  wise  head  about  it.  The  world  is  a  pleas- 
ant enough  place  if  you  can  pay  your  bills  and 
have  a  fair  digestion — eh,  Roy?  Bones  are  good 
things,  aren't  they,  old  fellow?" 

"You,  at  all  events,  are  never  serious,"  and  I 
laughed. 

"  I  will  tell  you  about  that  when  you  come  to 
Dane  Mount." 

"I  wish  you  could  have  got  Lady  Tilchester 
to  go,  then.  I  do  like  her  so  much.  She  has 
been  very  kind  to  me.  It  would  give  me  pleasure 
to  see  her." 

"She  is  a  delightful  woman." 

"  She  told  me  how  long  she  ha4  known  you — 
181 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

since  her  wedding-day,  I  think  she  said — and, 
oh,  lots  of  things  about  you.  She  seemed — " 

He  moved  his  arm  suddenly. 

"  I  don't  think  you  tied  this  handkerchief  tight 
enough,  Comtesse,"  he  said,  again  turning  up 
his  cuff. 

I  rose  and  looked  at  the  bandage. 

"Why,  yes.  It  is  just  the  same  as  it  was. 
But  I  will  do  it  again  if  you  wish/' 

This  time  it  did  not  take  me  so  long,  but  that 
ridiculous  beating  began  again  in  my  heart. 

"It  must  have  a  double  knot  to  keep  it  right/' 
said  Antony. 

My  fingers  seemed  clumsy.  We  were  stand- 
ing so  close  together  there  was  a  something — an 
electricity — which  made  my  hands  tremble.  Oh, 
this  was  folly!  I  must  not  let  myself  feel  so.  I 
finished  the  knot  at  last,  and  then  said,  stupidly : 

"  I  have  an  idea  I  should  return  to  my  worthy 
guests  down-stairs/' 

Antony  smiled. 

"They  are  quite  happy  without  you/'  he  said. 
"  Vain  little  Comtesse,  -to  think  your  presence  is 
necessary  to  every  one!" 

"I  dare  say.     But — I  must  go  to  them." 

"No,  you  must  not.  Sit  down  in  your  low 
chair  and  forget  all  about  them.  No  good  host- 
ess fusses  after  her  guests.  People  like  to  be 
left  to  themselves." 

I  sat  down  meekly. 

"I  never  can  understand/'  said  Antony,  pres- 
182 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

ently,  "why  your  grandmother  did  not  let  me 
know  when  first  you  came  to  the  cottage.  She 
was  fully  aware  of  the  relationship  between  us, 
even  if  I  was  not/' 

"Grandmamma  was  a  very  proud  woman. 
We  were  so  very  poor.  And  then,  there  was 
grandpapa's  betise,  which,  I  fancy,  had  quite 
separated  them  from  his  family." 

"What  made  her  come  to  Ledstone  at  all,  I 
wonder?" 

I  felt  my  cheeks  getting  pink,  and  bent  down 
to  look  into  the  fire. 

"She  wanted  to  live  in  England,  so  that  I 
might  become  English  by  growing  up  there, 
and — and  it  was  cheap.  We  had  been  in  London 
before  that,  and  back  in  Paris,  and  down  at 
Brighton,  and  a  lot  of  dull  places.  I  remember 
she  saw  the  advertisement  in  the  paper  one  morn- 
ing and  took  the  cottage  immediately." 

"You  had  heard  that  we  were  relations?"  he 
asked. 

"  Yes,  vaguely.  But  I  did  not  know  how  many 
of  you  there  were,  only  that  the  present  holder 
of  the  title  was  a  Sir  Antony." 

"It  was  a  strange  coincidence  neither  of  us 
should  have  caught  the  other's  name  at  the  ball 
that  night." 

"Yes." 

"Afterwards,  when  we  talked  you  over  at 
Harley,  every  one  had  got  information  •  about 
you,  it  seemed.  They  were  aH  so  awfully  in- 

183 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

terested  in  you.  You  looked  such  an  extraor- 
dinary contrast  to  the  rest  of  the  company/' 

"Well,  I  am  glad  of  that." 

He  smiled. 

"  It  was  when  I  heard  that  your  grandmother 
was  a  Frenchwoman  I  grasped  everything.  I 
remembered  there  was  some  story  in  the  family 
about  a  younger  son  marrying  a  beautiful  Pa- 
risienne.  But  it  seemed  to  me  it  must  be  too  far 
back  to  be  possible.  And  then  Lady  Tilchester 
told  me  she  was  a  very  old  woman.  So  we  came 
over  next  day." 

"I  wish  you  had  seen  more  of  grandmamma/' 
I  said.  "  You  would  have  got  on  together.  She 
used  to  say  wonderful  things  sometimes/' 

"I  thought  her  the  most  lovely  old  lady  I  had 


ever  seen/' 


"Her  maxims  would  fill  a  book  as  big  as  La 
Rochefoucauld. " 

"What  a  pity  you  did  not  write  them  down!" 

"The  Marquis  and  she  had  the  religion  du 
beau.  They  worshipped  everything  that  was 
beautiful  and  suitable  and  refined.  They  never 
did  anything  for  effect,  only  because  the  action 
was  due  to  themselves  and  was  a  good  action." 
I  paused. 

"Go  on,  Comtesse,"  said  Antony.  "I  like  to 
hear  it  all." 

"They  really  believed  in  noblesse  oblige.  Nei- 
ther of  them  would  have  stooped  from  their  po- 
sition— oh,  not  a  little  inch." 

184 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

"  It  is  a  thing  we  have  quite  forgotten  in  Eng- 
land. It  was  inconvenient  and  most  of  us  are 
not  rich  enough  to  indulge  in  it." 

"But  must  one  be  rich  to  behave  as  of  one's 
race?"  I  asked,  astonished. 

"Yes — or  remain  in  the  background,  a  good 
deal  bored.  To  obtain  the  wherewithal  to  enjoy 
this  rather  expensive  world,  people  stoop  consid- 
erably nowadays." 

"And  you  don't  think  it  dreadful?" 

"  I  am  not  a  Crusader.  Times  have  changed. 
One  can  keep  one's  own  ideas  and  let  others  do 
as  they  please." 

"  Grandmamma  had  a  maxim  like  that.  She 
said  it  was  bourgeois  to  be  shocked  and  aston- 
ished at  things.  She  believed  in  the  difference 
of  classes.  No  one  could  have  persuaded  her  that 
the  common  people  are  made  of  the  same  flesh 
and  blood  as  we  are." 

"Tell  me  some  more." 

"This  was  her  idea  of  things  generally:  first 
of  all,  to  have  the  greatest  self-respect;  to  stoop 
to  no  meanness;  to  desecrate  the  body  or  mind 
in  no  way;  to  conquer  and  overcome  all  fool- 
ish emotions;  to  be  unselfish,  to  be  gay,  to  be 
courageous;  to  bear  physical  and  moral  pain 
without  any  outward  show;  to  forever  have 
in  front  of  one  that  a  straight  and  beautiful 
carriage  must  be  the  reflection  of  a  straight 
and  beautiful  mind;  to  take  pleasure  in  sim- 
ple things,  and  to  be  contented  with  what  one 

185 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

has  got  if  it  is  impossible  to  obtain  better — in 
short,  never  to  run  one's  head  against  a  stone 
wall  or  a  feather-bed,  but  if  a  good  thing  is  to 
be  gained  by  patience,  or  perseverance,  or  con- 
centration, to  obtain  it." 

"I  am  learning.  Continue/'  said  Antony,  but 
there  was  no  mock  in  his  eyes.  Only  he  smiled 
a  little. 

"They  both  had  a  fine  contempt  of  death 
and  a  manner  of  grand  seigneur  and  a  perfect 
philosophy.  They  had  the  refinement  of  sen- 
timent of  the  ancien  regime,  only  they  were 
much  less  coarse.  And  in  the  ancien  regime 
one  worshipped  the  King  and  the  constitution 
of  France,  whereas  grandmamma  and  the  Mar- 
quis worshipped  only  le  beau  in  everything, 
which  is  higher  than  an  individual/' 

"How  well  you  tell  it!  I  shall  have  to  re- 
organize my  religion/' 

"You  are  laughing  at  me!" 

"No,  I  am  not.  I  am  deeply  interested.  Go 
on/'  and  he  leaned  back  in  the  straight-backed 
arm-chair. 

"'Never  stay  in  the  mud/  was  another  of 
grandmamma's  maxims.  'It  happens  that  the 
best  of  us  may  fall  there  in  life,  but  no  one 
need  stay  there/  she  used  to  say.  Even  the 
common  people  could  rise  out  of  it  if  they  had 
a  fine  enough  spirit.  But  we  were  the  exam- 
ples, and  one  must  never  give  a  bad  example. 
For  instance,  the  common  people  might  cry 

186 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

when  they  were  hurt.  They  were  only  lower 
creatures  and  under  the  protection  of  the  oth- 
ers. They  could  roar,  if  it  pleased  them,  as  they 
were  the  model  of  no  one.  But  we  could  not  cry, 
to  encourage  this  foolishness/' 

"And    so    you    lived  and    learned  all  that, 
dear  little  Comtesse!     No  wonder  your  eyes  are 


so  wise/' 


"I  remember  once  I  became  impatient  with 
some  new  stitches  in  my  embroidery  that  would 
not  go  right,  and  I  flung  the  piece  down  and 
stamped  on  it  and  tore  it.  Grandmamma  said 
nothing,  but  she  deliberately  undid  a  ball  of 
silk  and  tangled  it  dreadfully,  and  then  gave 
it  to  me  to  straighten  out.  It  was  not  to  irri- 
tate me,  she  said.  But  patience  and  discipline 
were  necessary  to  enable  one  to  get  through  life 
with  decency  and  pleasure,  and  while  I  untan- 
gled the  silk  I  should  have  time  to  reflect  upon 
how  comically  ridiculous  I  had  been  to  throw 
down  and  trample  upon  an  inanimate  thing 
that  only  my  personal  stupidity  had  caused  to 
annoy  me/' 

Antony  looked  at  me  a  long  time.  He  sighed 
a  short,  quick  sigh,  and  then  said,  gayly : 

"You  must  certainly  write  a  book  for  the 
training  of  the  young.  But  what  did  your 
grandmother  say  of  such  things  as  strong  pas- 
sions— the  mad  love  of  one  person  for  another, 
for  instance?  Could  they  be  rule<J  by  maxims?" 

"She  did  not  discuss  those  things  with  me. 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

But  she  did  say  that  in  life,  now  and  then,  there 
came  a  coup  de  foudre,  which  sometimes  was  its 
glory  and  sometimes  not;  that  this  was  nature, 
and  there  was  no  use  going  absolutely  con- 
trary to  nature;  but  that  a  disciplined  person 
was  less  likely  to  commit  a  betise,  or  to  mistake 
a  passing  light  for  the  coup  de  foudre,  than  one 
who  was  accustomed  to  give  way  to  every  emo- 
tion, as  a  trained  soldier  is  better  able  to  stand 
fire  than  the  raw  recruit  from  the  fields/' 

"  And  yet  the  trained  soldier  goes  under  some- 
times/' 

"In  that  case,  she  said,  there  were  only  two 
courses — either  to  finish  the  matter  and  go  out 
altogether,  or  to  get  up  again  and  fight  better 
next  time/' 

Antony  looked  down  at  me.  He  shaded  his 
eyes  with  his  hand,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  were 
observing  something  in  my  very  soul.  Then  he 
said,  with  a  whimsical  smile, 

"  Comtesse,  tell  me.  And  did  she  consider  there 
were  any  great  sins?" 

"Oh  yes.  To  break  one's  word,  or  in  any 
way  degrade  one's  race.  But  she  said  sins  were 
not  so  much  sins  in  themselves  as  in  their  fagon 
de  faire.  One  must  remain  a  gentlewoman — or 
man — always,  even  in  moments  of  the  greatest 
tourbillons.  'We  are  all  of  flesh  and  blood/ 
she  said,  '  but  in  the  same  situation  the  fille  de 
chambre  conducts  herself  differently  to  the  femme 
de  qualitG.'  What  a  serious  impression  I  am 

188 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

giving  you  of  grandmamma,  though !     She  was 
a  gay  person,  full  of  pleasant  thoughts/' 

"She  permitted  pleasures,  then?" 

"But,  of  course,  all  pleasures  that  did  not 
really  injure  other  people.  She  said  priests  and 
custom  and  convention  had  robbed  the  world  of 
much  joy/' 

"She  was  quite  right/' 

"  She  liked  people  to  have  fine  perceptions.  To 
be  able  to  'see  with  the  eye-lashes'  was  one  of 
her  expressions,  and,  I  assure  you,  nothing  es- 
caped her.  It  was  very  fatiguing  to  be  long  in 
the  company  of  people  who  passed  their  lives 
morally  eating  suet  -  pudding,  she  said.  Avoid 
stodge,  she  told  me,  and,  above  all,  I  was  to 
avoid  that  sentimental,  mawkish,  dismal  point  of 
view  that  dramatically  wrote  up,  over  everything, 
'Duty/  with  a  huge  D.  It  happened  that  there 
were  duties  to  be  done  in  life,  but  they  must  be 
accomplished  quietly,  or  gayly,  as  the  case  might 
be.  '  Do  not  shut  the  mouth  with  a  snap,  and, 
having  done  so,  turn  the  corners  down,'  she  said. 
'These  habits  will  not  procure  friends  for  you/ 
And  so  I  learned  to  take  things  gayly." 

We  were  both  silent  for  some  time  after  this. 
Then  Antony  exerted  himself  to  amuse  me. 
We  talked  as  lightly  as  the  skimming  of  swal- 
lows, flying  from  one  subject  to  another.  We 
were  as  happy  as  laughing  children.  The  time 
passed.  It  seemed  but  a  few  minutes  when  the 
clock  struck  eight. 

189 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"You  will  make  me  late  for  dinner!"  I  ex- 
claimed. "  But  you  reminded  me  of  grandmamma 
and  the  Marquis  and  made  me  talk." 

"  May  I  come  again  to  -  night  —  to  return  La 
Rochefoucauld?"  he  asked,  with  his  droll  smile. 

"I  do  not  know.  We  shall  see."  And  I  ran 
into  my  room,  leaving  him  standing  beside  the 
fire. 


WHEN  I  got  into  my  bedroom  the  door  was  open 
into  Augustus's  room  beyond.  He  had  not  come 
up  to  dress.  Indeed,  when  I  was  quite  ready  to 
go  down  to  dinner  he  had  not  yet  appeared. 

Half-past  eight  sounded. 

I  descended  the  stairs  quickly  and  went  along 
the  passage  towards  his  "den."  There  I  met 
his  valet. 

"Mr.  Gurrage  is  asleep,  ma'am/'  he  said, 
"and  does  not  seem  inclined  to  wake,  ma'am/' 
and  he  held  the  door  open  for  me  to  pass  into 
the  room. 

Augustus  was  lying  in  his  big  chair,  before 
the  fire,  his  face  crimson,  his  mouth  wide  open, 
and  snoring  and  breathing  very  heavily.  He 
was  still  in  his  shooting-things. 

An  indescribable  smell  of  scorching  tweed  and 
spirit  pervaded  the  room. 

By  his  side  was  an  almost  finished  glass  of 
whiskey.  The  bottle  stood  on  the  tray  and  an- 
other bottle  lay,  broken,  on  the  floor. 

Atkinson  began  clearing  up  this  debris. 

"Augustus!"  I  called,  but  he  did  not  awake. 
"Augustus,  it  is  time  for  dinner!" 

191 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"If  you  please,  ma'am/'  said  the  valet,  cough- 
ing respectfully,  "if  I  might  say  so,  you  had 
better  let  Mr.  Gurrage  sleep,  ma'am.  I'll  see 
after  him.  He  is — very  angry  when  he  is  like 
this  and  woke  suddenly,  ma'am." 

I  looked  at  the  whiskey  bottles  and  the  flush- 
ed face.  A  sickening  disgust  overwhelmed  me. 
And  there  would  be  no  Lady  Tilchester  to  save 
me  to-night! 

"Open  the  window,"  I  said  to  Atkinson,  "and 
persuade  Mr.  Gurrage  to  go  to  bed  when  he 
wakes."  And  I  left  the  room. 

All  my  guests  were  assembled  when  I  got  into 
the  first  drawing-room.  Indeed,  it  was  twenty 
minutes  to  nine. 

Mrs.  Dodd  had  the  air  of  an  aggrieved  tur- 
key-gobbler. I  felt  she  would  fly  at  some 
one. 

"We  thought  we  should  not  get  any  dinner, 
Mrs.  Gussie,"  she  said,  huffily.  "Folks  are  gen- 
erally down  in  their  own  houses!" 

I  took  no  notice  of  this  remark. 

"I  am  so  sorry  to  be  late,  Lady  Wakely,"  I 
said,  addressing  her  and  the  other  women,  "  but 
my  husband  is  not  well,  and,  I  fear,  will  not  be 
able  to  come  in  to  dinner.  He  must  have  caught 
a  chill  out  shooting." 

"Have  you  sent  for  the  doctor?  Because,  if 
not,  I  know  all  about  chills  with  Wullie,  who 
never  changes  his  socks,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Dodd.  "Let  me  go  to  him,  Mrs.  Gussie." 

192 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"No,  thank  you.  Do  not  trouble/'  I  said. 
"  His  servant  and  I  have  done  all  that  is  neces- 
sary, and  he  wishes  to  sleep.  Let  us  go  in  to 
dinner." 

I  told  them  each  whom  they  were  to  take  in, 
and  put  my  own  hand  on  Antony's  arm.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  held  it  closely  to  his  side,  but 
he  said  nothing,  and  we  walked  into  the  dining- 
room. 

I  do  not  know  at  all  what  we  talked  about. 
Certainly  for  three  courses  everything  was  a 
blank  to  me.  But  I  heard  myself  laughing,  and 
Mr.  Dodd,  who  sat  on  my  other  hand,  seemed 
mightily  amused  at  my  conversation. 

"Why,  the  open  air  and  a  little  walking  has 
done  you  all  the  good  in  the  world,  Mrs.  Gus- 
sie!"  I  was  conscious,  at  last,  that  he  was  say- 
ing. "Your  cheeks  are  quite  rosy  and  your 
eyes  as  bright  as  stars/' 

"Yes,  it  was  a  delightful  day/'  I  said. 

"Talk  about  chills,  Mr.  McCormack "— Mrs. 
Dodd's  voice  carried  across  the  table — "I  know 
Gussie  Gurrage,  and  I  don't  believe  he  ever  had 
a  chill  in  his  life!" 

Antony  now  began  to  talk  to  me  quietly.  He 
said  very  little.  His  voice  was  particularly  cool 
and  collected.  He  never  once  looked  at  me. 
I  was  grateful  for  that.  I  felt  as  if  I  could 
not  bear  to  see  sympathy  in  his  eyes.  He  also 
talked  to  Lady  Wakely,  on  his  other  hand,  and 
chaffed  beyond  to  Miss  Springle. 
"  193 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

And  so  the  dinner  passed,  and  the  ladies  rose 
to  leave  the  dining-room,  Mr.  McCormack  holding 
the  door  for  us. 

As  it  was  wide  open,  and  all  could  see  into  the 
hall,  an  apparition  appeared  upon  the  scene, 
coming  from  the  passage  that  leads  to  the  "  den  " 
— Augustus,  being  supported  by  Atkinson  and 
one  of  the  footmen,  and  singing  snatches  of  some 
low  music-hall  song. 

In  an  instant  Antony  had  sprung  forward  and 
closed  the  door,  Mr.  McCormack  and  the  others 
standing  open-mouthed  and  inert. 

" There,  I  knew  it  was  no  chill!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Dodd. 

"  Hush,  madam!"  said  Antony,  sternly,  his  eyes 
flashing  green -blue  fire.  "We  were  ve^  com- 
fortable at  the  table.  Shall  we  not  all  sit  down 
again?" 

Lady  Wakely  at  once  returned  to  her  chair. 
The  meek  Mrs.  Broun  put  her  hand  on  my  arm 
in  sympathy,  but  I  annihilated  her  with  a  look 
as  I  swept  back  to  my  seat,  and  soon  my  guests 
were  once  more  in  their  places. 

Then  it  was  that  Antony  exerted  himself  to 
amuse  this  company.  With  the  most  admira- 
ble tact  and  self-composure,  he  kept  the  whole 
party  entertained  for  half  an  hour.  And  when 
we  again  left  the  room  it  was  en  bande,  without 
ceremony,  the  men  accompanying  us. 

Lady  Wakely  kindly  said  good -night  in 
quite  a  few  minutes,  and  the  other  women 

194 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

followed  her  example.  I  spoke  no  word  of 
thanks  to  Antony.  I  did  not  even  look  into  his 
face. 

When  I  got  to  my  boudoir  I  could  hear  Au- 
gustus's drunken  snores  from  the  room  beyond. 
He  had  mercifully  fallen  asleep. 

I  did  not  ring  for  McGreggor.  I  would  stay 
in  my  sitting-room  all  night.  Roy  came  up  to 
me  and  licked  my  hand.  Then  suddenly  some- 
thing seemed  to  give  way  in  my  will,  and  I  drop- 
ped on  the  rug  beside  my  dog  and  cried  as  I 
have  never  cried  in  my  life,  my  head  buried  in 
his  soft,  black  coat. 

Oh,  grandmamma,  forgive  me  for  such  weak- 
ness! But  surely,  if  we  had  known  of  this 
horror,  even  the  Calincourts  need  not  have  kept 
their  word  to  a  drunken  man ! 

I  did  not  hear  the  door  open,  but  suddenly 
was  conscious  of  Antony's  voice. 

"Ambrosine,  for  God's  sake  don't  cry  so!" 
he  whispered,  hoarsely. 

I  did  not  look  up. 

"Oh,  I  want  to  thank  you  for  your  kindness/' 
I  sobbed,  "  but  if  you  would  continue  it  you  will 
leave  me  now." 

He  knelt  on  the  rug  beside  me,  but  he  did^ 
not  even  touch  my  hair. 

"I  cannot  leave  you  —  miserable  like  this," 
he  said,  brokenly,  as  if  the  words  were  drag- 
ged from  him.  "  Ambrosine,  my  dearest!  Little 
Comtesse,  please,  please  do  not  cry!" 

195 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Joy  ran  through  me  at  his  words.  My  sobs 
ceased. 

The  drunken  voice  of  Augustus  began  the 
song  again  from  the  next  room. 

I  started  up  in  terror.  Oh,  if  he  should  burst 
into  this  room! 

"Antony/'  I  implored,  "if  you  want  to  serve 
me,  go!"  And  I  opened  the  passage  door. 

He  drew  me  into  the  corridor  with  him. 

"I  tell  you,  you  shall  not  stay  here  alone 
with  that  brute!"  he  said,  fiercely.  "Promise 
me  you  will  go  to  your  maid's  room  and  not 
come  into  this  part  of  the  house  to-night.  I  will 
see  his  valet  and  arrange  things  safely  for  him/' 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  and  then  I  ran.  If  I  had 
stayed  another  moment — ah,  well ! 

Augustus  was  too  ill  to  get  up  next  morning. 
It  was  raining  again,  and,  by  common  consent, 
our  guests  left  by  mid-day  trains. 

Sir  Samuel  Wakely  said,  with  gruff  kind- 
heartedness,  when  I  appeared  at  breakfast : 

"  I  have  seen  Wilks,  and  he  says  there  is  very 
little  chance  of  its  clearing  for  us  to  shoot  to- 
day, so  I  think  Lady  Wakely  and  I  will  be  start- 
ing home  before  luncheon-time.  With  your  hus- 
band ill,  I  am  sure  you  would  be  glad  to  be 
relieved  of  visitors." 

Lady  Wakely  also  expressed  her  regret  at 
leaving,  and  said  a  number  of  kind  things  with 
perfect  tact. 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

The  good  taste  of  some  of  the  rest  of  the  party 
was  not  so  apparent.  Mrs.  Broun  gushed  open 
sympathy  and  had  to  be  snubbed;  Miss  Sprin- 
gle  giggled,  while  Mrs.  Dodd  muttered  a  number 
of  disagreeable  things,  and  the  other  women  re- 
mained in  shocked  silence. 

The  men  were  awkward  and  uncomfortable, 
too.  Altogether  it  was  a  morning  that  is  un- 
pleasant to  remember.  Antony  was  the  only 
person  unmoved  and  exactly  the  same  as  usual. 
It  steadied  my  nerves  to  look  at  him. 

I  had  not  seen  Augustus,  as  I  had  come 
straight  from  a  room  near  McGreggor's,  where 
I  had  spent  the  night.  As  I  was  leaving  the 
dining-room  I  went  towards  the  staircase,  but 
Antony  stopped  me. 

"  Do  not  go  up,"  he  said.  "  Leave  him  to  him- 
self. The  doctor  is  with  him,  and  when  he  has 
completely  recovered  he  will  probably  be  peni- 
tent. He  has  only  just  escaped  delirium  tre- 
mens,  and  will  most  likely  be  in  bed  for  a  day 
or  two.  Promise  me  that  you  will  not  go  near 
his  -foom  or  I  will  stay  and  look  after  you  my- 
self/' 

Oh,  the  kindness  in  his  voice! 

"Yes,  I  promise/'  I  said,  meekly. 

"  Then  I  will  say  good-bye,  Comtesse,  until  we 
meet  at  Dane  Mount  on  the  4th  of  November/' 

"Good-bye/'  I  faltered,  and  we  shook  hands 
calmly  before  the  rest  of  the  company  standing 
about  the  hall 

197 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

But  when  the  tuff-tuff-tuff  of  his  automobile 
subsided  in  the  distance,  I  felt  as  if  all  things 
were  dead. 

The  evening  post  brought  an  invitation  from 
the  Duke  of  Myrlshire,  asking  us  to  go  and 
stay  with  him  for  a  small  shoot  on  the  30th  of 
October. 

Augustus  sent  for  me. 

As  I  had  promised,  I  had  not  been  near  him 
until  this  moment. 

He  was  still  in  bed,  and  looked  ill  and  un- 
shaven. He  was  reading  his  letters,  and  glanced 
up  at  me  with  heavy,  bloodshot  eyes. 

"Just  got  a  line  from  Myrlshire/'  he  said, 
pompously,  without  a  trace  of  shame  or  regret 
in  his  voice. 

"He  says  he  has  written  to  you,  too;  he  wants 
me  to  shoot  on  the  30th." 

I  remained  silent.  I  did  not  mean  to  irritate 
him,  but  the  whole  scene  made  me  numb  with 
disgust. 

"  Why  the  devil  don't  you  answer?"  Augustus 
raged,  his  face  flushing  darkly.  "  Write  at  once 
and  say  we  shall  be  delighted  to  accept/' 

"  You  are  engaged  to  shoot  with  Mr.  Dodd  for 
that  date/'  I  informed  him. 

Mr.  Dodd  was  sent  to  perdition,  and  Mrs. 
Dodd,  too,  and  then  he  said,  more  quietly: 

"Sit  down  now  and  write  to  the  Duke.  I 
would  not  miss  this  for  anything." 

I  did  not  stir  from  where  I  stood. 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"Listen,  Augustus/'  I  said.  "I  will  not  visit 
with  you  anywhere,  and  I  will  let  every  one 
know  the  reason,  unless  you  swear,  by  whatever 
you  hold  sacred,  that  you  will  never  utterly  dis- 
grace yourself  again  as  you  did  last  night.  When 
you  have  decided  to  make  this  oath  you  can  let 
me  know."  And  I  left  the  room,  leaving  the  air 
behind  me  thick  with  curses. 

I  had  one  of  the  most  distant  spare  rooms  pre- 
pared for  myself,  and  when  I  was  going  to  bed  a 
note  came  to  me. 

"I  swear/'  it  ran.  "Only  come  back  to  me. 
I  want  to  kiss  you  good-night." 

"  Tell  Mr.  Gurrage  I  will  see  him  in  the  morn- 
ing/' I  said  to  Atkinson,  and  I  locked  my  door. 


XI 


AUGUSTUS  was  not  able  to  leave  his  room  for 
four  or  five  days  after  this.  I  left  him  almost 
entirely  to  himself,  only  going  to  see  him  once 
a  day,  to  hear  if  he  required  anything. 

At  the  end  of  the  time  his  penitence  was  com- 
plete, and  he  promised  me  to  change  his  ways 
for  the  future.  He  was  horribly  affectionate  to 
me,  but  peace  was  restored. 

I  cannot  say  that  I  felt  any  happier,  but  it 
seemed  a  lull  and  calm  after  a  storm.  I  tried 
to  be  more  gentle  and  sympathetic  to  him  and 
to  take  more  interest  in  the  house. 

And  so,  at  last,  the  30th  arrived,  and  our  visit 
to  Myrlton  Castle. 

We  had  to  pass  through  London  on  our  way 
there,  and  Augustus  left  me  for  an  hour  or  two, 
while  he  went  to  his  tailor's,  he  said. 

I  had  no  money  to  shop  with.  I  had  spent 
all  my  first  quarter's  allowance  on  books  and  a 
late  wedding-present  to  Hephzibah,  and  I  fool- 
ishly could  not  bring  myself  to  ask  Augustus 
for  more. 

So  I  sat  in  the  hotel  hall  after  lunch  and 
watched  the  people  passing  by. 

200 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

What  had  seemed  a  great  sum  of  money  to 
me  in  my  days  of  poverty  now  appeared  a  very 
meagre  allowance,  as  I  had  begun  to  realize 
what  things  cost.  In  making  the  settlement  I 
had  not  been  consulted.  Grandmamma  and  the 
Marquis  had  arranged  matters  with  my  future 
husband,  and  I  remember  her  words :  "  We  have 
only  been  able  to  secure  for  your  personal  use  a 
very  mediocre  sum,  but  your  jointure  in  case  of 
widowhood  is  quite  magnificent/' 

Augustus  had  promised  her  I  should  have 
everything  I  wanted  in  the  world  —  "as  much 
money  as  she  likes  to  ask  for,  once  she  is  my 
wife." 

It  was  the  "asking  for"  that  kept  me  penni- 
less. I  would  not  be  so  foolish  as  to  spend  it  all 
at  once  the  next  time  it  came  in.  Meanwhile 
the  knowledge  that  a  sovereign  or  two  is  all 
one  possesses  in  one's  pocket  has  a  depressing 
effect  upon  the  spirits. 

"Run  up  what  bills  you  like  for  your  clothes/' 
Augustus  has  often  said  to  me.  "I  don't  care, 
as  long  as  they  show  the  money  that  has  been 
put  into  them  and  you  make  a  good  dash." 

So  I  sat  on  the  sofa  in  the  hotel  hall  musing 
all  by  myself. 

Suddenly  a  desire  came  over  me  to  take  Au- 
gustus at  his  word.  I,  too,  would  go  to  my 
tailor's. 

I  do  not  know  London  very  well;  but  Lady 
Tilchester  had  given  me  the  address  of  the  latest 

201 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

and  most  fashionable  dressmaker,  and  I  got  into 
a  hansom  and  drove  there. 

The  garments  were  pretty,  and  I  ordered 
several  tea-gowns  and  things  they  had  ready, 
and,  as  I  was  leaving,  gave  Augustus's  name 
and  address  for  the  account  to  be  sent  to.  He 
should  receive  the  bill,  as  he  wished. 

I  spoke  distinctly,  and  perhaps  more  loudly 
than  usual,  as  I  find  shop-people  so  stupid  with 
names.  A  young  vendeuse,  who  heard  me  as 
she  entered  the  room,  now  came  up. 

"Oh,  this  is  Madam  Henriette's  order,  Mad- 
am Green/'  she  said  to  the  elder  woman  who 
had  been  attending  upon  me.  "Madam  Hen- 
riette  is  engaged  just  now" — and  she  turned 
to  me  —  "but  she  asked  me  to  tell  your  lady- 
ship if  you  should  call  again  to-day  that  the 
things  will  be  sent  off  to-night  to  join  you  at 
Myrlton  Castle  as  you  wished.  Mr.  Gurrage  has 
just  been  in  and  left  a  message  that  he  was  sorry 
to  miss  your  ladyship,  but  would  be  at  the  sta- 
tion/' Then,  struck  by  some  look  in  my  face,  she 
said,  "The  Viscountess  Grenellen,  is  it  not?" 

The  elder  vendeuse,  who  probably  knew  Lady 
Grenellen  by  sight,  was  green  with  apprehension 
that  some  shocking  gaff  had  been  committed. 

For  one  second  I  hesitated,  then : 

"The  things  I  have  ordered  are  for  Lady 
Grenellen/'  I  said,  calmly.  Mercifully  we  are 
about  the  same  height.  "You  can  send  them 
with  the  others  to  Myrlton  Castle." 

202 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

And  with  a  few  casual  words  of  admiration 
about  a  set  of  lingerie  that  was  lying  on  the 
table,  I  sauntered  out  into  the  street. 

I  do  not  know  exactly  what  I  felt — a  sense  of 
insult,  principally. 

I  did  not  hate  Lady  Grenellen,  and  I  did  not 
feel  jealous  about  Augustus.  But  it  all  seemed 
so  terribly  low. 

She,  a  gentlewoman  who  must  have  been 
brought  up  with  every  surrounding  that  could 
foster  the  sentiment  of  self  -  respect  —  she,  the 
Duke  of  Myrlshire's  cousin,  not  a  parvenue — 
beautiful,  charming,  and  young  —  to  accept 
clothes  from  Augustus! 

Oh!  To  take  a  lover  for  love,  that  one  could 
understand  and  perhaps  pardon.  The  Marquis 
was  grandmamma's  lover,  but — but  not  a  com- 
mon person  like  Augustus — for  clothes! 

"Back  to  the  Carlton,  miss?"  said  the  han- 
som man,  breaking  in  upon  my  thoughts.  Per- 
haps I  looked  undecided  as  I  stood  in  the 
street. 

I  glanced  at  my  watch.  There  would  be  just 
time  to  catch  the  train. 

"Euston,"  I  said,  and  I  swung  to  the  doors. 
Then,  as  I  sat  there,  I  realized  that  my  knees 
were  trembling. 

At  the  station  Augustus  had  already  arrived, 
and,  under  pretence  of  seeing  whether  the  ser- 
vants and  luggage  were  all  there,  he  was  scan- 
ning the  platform  anxiously  for  Lady  Grenellen. 

203 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

His  face  fell  when  he  saw  me.  Perhaps  he 
hoped  she  would  have  arrived  first. 

I  could  not  prevent  myself  from  speaking 
in  a  voice  of  extra  coldness,  although  I  tried 
hard  to  be  natural.  This  was  not  the  moment 
for  recriminations.  Augustus  noticed  it,  and,  as 
usual,  began  to  bluster. 

"What's  up?"  he  asked,  irritably.  " You  look 
as  white  as  a  ghost/' 

"I  will  get  into  the  carriage/'  I  said.  "I  am 
cold."  And  Atkinson  and  McGreggor  arranged 
my  cushion  and  rugs  for  me,  Augustus  uneas- 
ily watching  the  platform  meanwhile. 

Two  of  the  men  who  had  been  at  Harley 
passed,  and,  seeing  me,  came  up  and  spoke. 
They  were  going  to  Myrlton,  too,  I  found. 

"Why  don't  you  get  in  here?"  I  said,  gra- 
ciously, to  the  funny  one  they  had  called  "  Billy," 
and  whose  other  name  I  had  never  grasped.  "  It 
is  so  dull  to  travel  alone  with  one's  husband." 

He  got  in  and  sat  opposite  me.  We  talked 
merrily. 

"Why  don't  you  get  in,  Gurrage?"  he  said. 
"It  is  horribly  cold  with  the  door  open." 

Augustus  is  not  clever  under  these  circum- 
stances. He  has  no  sang-froid,  and  is  inclined 
to  become  ill-tempered. 

At  the  last  moment,  before  the  train  started, 
Lady  Grenellen  tore  down  the  platform.  Augus- 
tus rushed  to  meet  her,  and  the  guard  slammed 
our  door. 

204 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Whether  they  had  got  in  somewhere  else  we 
should  not  know  until  we  arrived  at  Rugby 
Junction,  where  we  were  to  change  onto  a  branch 
line.  I  used  the  whole  force  of  my  will  to  put 
the  matter  out  of  my  head.  I  told  myself  the 
doings  of  Augustus  were  nothing  to  me,  and 
henceforth  should  not  concern  me  in  any  way. 

At  last  I  succeeded  in  being  quite  able  to  en- 
joy my  companion's  conversation. 

At  Rugby  we  had  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to 
wait.  Nothing  of  the  other  couple  was  to  be 
seen.  Apparently  they  must  have  missed  the 
train,  after  all. 

A  few  moments  before  the  branch  train  started 
a  special  dashed  into  the  station,  and  out  got 
Lady  Grenellen  and  Augustus.  She  was  look- 
ing most  radiant  and  lovely,  but  Augustus  had 
an  expression  of  unease  and  self-consciousness 
as  he  greeted  us. 

"Was  it  not  too  provoking,  just  missing  the 
train/'  Lady  Grenellen  said,  laughing.  "Mr. 
Gurrage  insisted  upon  having  a  special.  Such 
a  mercy  he  was  there,  as  I  could  not  possibly 
have  afforded  one/' 

This  was  the  first  time  she  had  acknowledged 
my  existence.  Mr.  Billy  chaffed  Augustus,  and 
we  all  got  into  a  saloon  carriage  together.  It 
had  been  engaged  by  the  Duke,  and  four  or 
five  people  were  already  seated  in  it.  They 
appeared  all  to  be  friends  of  Lady  Grenellen's, 
and  she  was  soon  the  soul  of  the  party,  lajigh- 

205 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

ing  and  telling  of  her  mishap  about  the  train, 
her  white  teeth  gleaming  and  her  rouge -pink 
cheeks  glowing  like  a  peach.  No  one  could  be 
more  attractive,  and  I  ceased  to  blame  Augus- 
tus. I  could  understand  a  man,  if  this  lovely 
creature  looked  at  him  with  eyes  of  favor,  giv- 
ing up  any  one,  or  committing  any  folly,  for  her 
sake. 

Apparently,  for  the  moment,  she  had  finished 
with  Augustus,  for  she  snubbed  him  sharply 
once  or  twice,  and  finally  retired  with  a  beauti- 
ful young  man  into  the  compartment  beyond, 
kissing  her  hand  to  the  rest  as  she  went  through 
the  door. 

"I  am  going  to  talk  business  with  Luffy  till 
we  get  to  Myrlton,"  she  said. 

A  savage  look  stamped  itself  upon  Augus- 
tus's face.  Would  he  vent  his  anger  on  her, 
presently,  or  should  I  be  the  recipient  of  it? 
Time  would  show. 

Myrlton  is  a  glorious  place,  hundreds  and 
hundreds  of  years  old,  and  full  of  traditions 
and  ghosts,  with  a  real  draw-bridge  and  huge 
baronial  hall,  with  the  raised  part,  where  they 
eat  above  the  salt  in  by -gone  days.  Every- 
thing is  rather  shabby  and  stiffly  arranged, 
and,  except  in  the  Duke's  own  special  rooms, 
it  looks  as  if  no  woman  had  been  there  for 
years. 

The  Duke  is  a  perfect  host.  He  seemed  delight- 
ed to  see  me,  and  soon  let  me  know  that  his  only 

206 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

interest  in  the  party  was  on  account  of  my  pres- 
ence among  them.  I  felt  soothed  and  flattered. 

Lady  Grenellen  was  in  tearing  spirits. 

"Berty,  I  have  got  her/'  she  laughed,  as  she 
deliberately  drew  a  chair,  and  divided  the  Duke 
and  me,  who  were  sitting  a  little  apart. 

"She  isn't  at  all  bad,  and  I  have  asked  her 
and  her  aunt  to  come  here  to-morrow/'  she  con- 
tinued. "I  told  them  I  was  giving  the  party, 
and  that  they  should  be  my  guests.  The  aunt 
knows  what  for,  and  I  expect  the  girl,  too.  She 
has  at  least  fifty  thousand  a  3^ear.  But  she  is 
American.  There  was  nothing  in  the  English 
market  rich  enough.  A  paltry  ten  thousand 
would  be  no  use  to  you/' 

"Oh,  Cordelia,  I  told  you  I  would  not  have 
an  American,"  said  the  Duke,  reproachfully. 
"Think  how  jumpy  they  are,  and  I  can't  ex- 
plain to  her  that  I  simply  want  her  to  stay  at 
home  and  have  lots  of  children  and  do  the 
house  up." 

"  Oh  yes,  you  can.  She  is  from  the  West,  and  a 
country-girl,  and,  I  assure  you,  those  Americans 
are  quite  accustomed  to  make  a  bargain.  You 
can  settle  everything  of  that  sort  with  the  aunt." 

"Mercifully,  Margaret  Tilchester  is  arriving 
to-morrow,  too,"  sighed  the  Duke.  "She  has 
such  admirable  judgment.  I  shall  be  able  to  rely 
upon  her." 

"Ungrateful  boy!"  laughed  Lady  Grenellen. 
"  After  the  trouble  I  have  taken  to  get  her,  too. 

207 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Now  I  am  going  to  have  a  sleep  before  dinner. 
By-bye/'  And  she  sauntered  off,  accompanied 
by  the  beautiful  young  man. 

Augustus  stood  biting  the  ends  of  his  stubbly 
mustache. 

No  one  had  to  bother  about  what  the  other 
people  were  doing  here.  The  guests  did  not  sit 
round  waiting  to  be  entertained ;  they  all  seemed 
perfectly  at  home,  and  did  what  they  pleased. 

The  party  was  not  large,  but  quite  delight- 
fully composed.  I  felt  I  should  enjoy  my  even- 
ing. Before  going  down  to  dinner,  Augustus 
came  into  my  room.  He  hoped,  he  said,  that  I 
had  some  jewels  on. 

My  appearance  pleased  him.  He  came  up  and 
kissed  me.  I  could  not  speak  to  him,  as  Mc- 
Greggor  was  in  the  room,  and  afterwards  it 
seemed  too  late.  Should  I  leave  the  affair  in 
silence?  Oh,  if  I  had  some  one  to  advise  me! — 
Lady  Tilchester,  perhaps.  And  yet  how,  so  soon 
after  my  marriage,  could  I  say  to  her :  "  My  hus- 
band pays  for  another  woman's  clothes,  and  is, 
I  suppose,  her  lover.  But  beyond  the  insult  of 
the  case,  the  disgust  and  contempt  it  fills  me  with, 
I  am  not  hurt  a  bit,  and  am  only  thankful  for 
anything  that  keeps  him  away  from  me/'  What 
would  she  think?  Would  she  understand,  be- 
cause of  Lord  Tilchester  and  Babykins,  or  would 
it,  being  so  soon,  shock  her?  I  wish  I  knew. 
Perhaps  it  is  as  my  mother-in-law  said,  and  I 
am  not  a  flesh-and-blood  woman. 

208 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Early  next  day — they  had  come  by  the  Scotch 
mail  —  Lord  and  Lady  Tilchester  'arrived  with 
Babykins. 

Most  of  the  men  were  out  shooting  but  the 
Duke  and  the  beautiful  young  man  (his  name 
is  Lord  Luff  ton),  who  had  stayed  behind  to  take 
care  of  us,  they  said. 

Lady  Grenellen  appeared  just  before  lunch. 

"  I  have  ordered  a  brougham  to  meet  the  one- 
thirty  train,  Berty/'  she  said,  "to  bring  my 
Americans  up.  They  will  be  here  in  a  minute. 
Come  into  the  hall  with  me  to  receive  them." 

The  Duke  accompanied  her  reluctantly. 

"It  would  be  as  well  to  know  their  name/'  he 
said,  as  he  sauntered  after  her  trailing  skirts. 

"Cadwallader — Miss  Martina  B.  Cadwallader 
— that  is  the  aunt,  and  Miss  Corrisande  K. 
Trumpet— that  is  the  niece/'  said  Lady  Gren- 
ellen, stalking  ahead. 

The  windows  of  the  long  gallery  where  we 
were  all  sitting  looked  onto  the  court-yard,  and 
two  flys  passed  the  angle  of  the  turret. 

"Look  at  the  luggage!"  exclaimed  Babykins, 
and  we  all  went  to  the  window. 

There  was,  indeed,  a  wonderful  collection — 
both  flys  laden  with  enormous,  iron-bound  trunks 
as  big  as  hen-houses.  A  pair  of  smart  French 
maids  seemed  buried  beneath  them. 

The  entire  party  of  us  burned  with  curiosity 
to  see  the  owners,  but  long  before  they  appear- 
ed we  were  conscious  of  their  presence. 
14  209 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Two  of  the  most  highly  pitched  American 
voices  I  have  ever  heard  were  saying  civil  things 
to  our  host  and  Lady  Grenellen.  More  highly 
pitched  than  Hephzibah's,  and  that  is  the  high- 
est, I  thought,  there  could  be  in  the  world. 

"She  is  awfully  good-looking/'  whispered 
Babykins,  who  caught  sight  of  them  first  as 
they  came  through  the  hall. 

The  aunt  walked  in  front  with  Lady  Grenellen, 
a  tall  woman  with  a  keen,  dark  face  of  the  red 
Indian  type,  with  pure  white  hair,  beautifully 
done,  and  a  perfect  dignity  of  carriage. 

The  heiress  followed  with  the  Duke.  She  is 
small  and  plump  and  feminine-looking,  with  the 
sweetest  dimpled  face  and  great  brown  eyes. 
Both  were  exquisitely  dressed  and  carried  little 
bags  at  their  waists.  Their  manner  had  complete 
assurance,  without  a  trace  of  self -consciousness. 

Lady  Grenellen  had  told  us  all  their  history 
Not  a  possible  drop  of  blood  bluer  than  a  nav- 
vy's could  circulate  in  their  veins,  and  yet  their 
wrists  were  fine,  their  heads  were  small,  and  their 
general  appearance  was  that  of  gentlewomen. 

I  seemed  to  see  pictures  and  sounds  of  my  ear- 
liest childhood  as  they  spoke.  I  took  to  them 
at  once. 

Following  the  English  custom,  Lady  Grenellen 
did  not  introduce  them  to  any  one  but  Baby- 
kins,  who  happened  to  step  forward,  and  we  all 
proceeded  to  lunch,  which  was  laid  at  small, 
round  tables. 

210 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

The  Duke  wore  an  air  of  comic  distress.  His 
eyebrows  were  raised  as  though  trying  to  un- 
derstand a  foreign  language. 

I  sat  with  Lady  Tilchester  at  another  table, 
and  we  could  not  hear  most  of  their  conversa- 
tion, only  the  sentences  of  the  American  ladies, 
and  they  sounded  like  some  one  talking  down 
the  telephone  in  one  of  the  plays  I  saw  in 
Paris.  You  only  heard  one  side,  not  the  answers 
back. 

"Why,  this  is  a  real  castle!"  "You  don't 
say!"  "Yes,  beheaded  in  the  hall."  "Miss 
Trumpet  has  all  the  statistics.  She  read  them 
in  the  guide-book  coming  along."  "I  calcu- 
late she  knows  more  about  your  family  history, 
Book,  than  you  know  yourself,"  etc.,  etc. 

"What  a  pity  they  have  voices  like  that!" 
exclaimed  Lady  Tilchester.  "  I  know  Berty  will 
be  put  off,  he  is  so  ridiculously  fastidious,  and 
it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  he  should  marry 
an  heiress." 

"The  niece  is  young.  Perhaps  hers  could  be 
softened,"  I  said.  "She  is  so  pretty,  too." 

Lady  Tilchester  looked  at  me  suddenly.  She 
had  not  listened  to  what  I  said. 

"Oh,  dear  Mrs.  Gurrage,  you  will  help  us  to 
secure  this  girl?  I  ask  you  frankly,  because,  of 
course,  the  Duke  is  in  love  with  you,  and  he 
naturally  would  not  be  impressed  with  Miss 
Trumpet." 

I  should  have  been  angry  if  any  one  else  had 
211 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

said  this.     But  there  is  something  so  adorable 
about  Lady  Tilchester  she  can  say  anything. 

"  You  are  quite  mistaken.  I  have  only  seen  the 
Duke  at  your  house/'  I  said,  smiling,  "  and  a  man 
cannot  get  in  love  on  so  short  an  acquaintance, 
can  he? — besides,  my  being  only  just  married/' 

"I  suppose  you  have  not  an  idea  how  beauti- 
ful you  are,  dear/'  she  said,  kindly.  "Much  as 
I  like  you,  I  almost  wish  you  were  not  staying 
here  now/' 

"  I  promise  I  will  do  my  best  to  encourage  the 
Duke  to  marry  Miss  Trumpet,  if  you  wish  it," 
I  said.  "  I  think  he  knows  it  is  a  necessity  from 
what  he  said  to  me." 

"Then  I  shall  carry  you  up-stairs  this  after- 
noon out  of  harm's  way,"  she  said,  with  her  ex- 
quisite smile.  "Berty  always  gives  me  a  dear 
little  sitting-room  next  my  room,  and  we  can 
have  a  regular  school-girls'  chat  over  the  fire." 

Nothing  could  have  pleased  me  better.  I  would 
rather  talk  to  this  dear  lady  than  any  Duke  in 
the  world. 

After  lunch  some  introductions  were  gone 
through. 

"Now  I  am  proud  to  be  presented  to  you/' 
said  the  aunt  to  Lady  Tilchester,  with  perfect 
composure.  "We  have  heard  a  great  deal  of 
you  in  our  country,  and  my  niece,  Miss  Trum- 
pet, has  always  had  the  greatest  admiration  for 
your  photograph." 

The  niece,  meanwhile,  talked  to  me, 
212 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

There  is  something  so  fresh  and  engaging 
about  her  that  in  a  few  moments  one  almost 
forgot  her  terrible  voice. 

"Why,  it  does  seem  strange/'  she  said,  "with 
the  veneration  we  have  in  America  for  really 
old  things,  to  hear  the  Duke"  (she  does  not 
quite  say  Book,  like  the  aunt.  It  sounds  more 
like  Juke)  "call  this  castle  an  old  'stone-heap/ 
lam  just  longing  to  see  the  place  his  ancestor 
was  beheaded  upon  in  May,  1485.  The  Duke 
hardly  seems  to  know  about  it,  but  I  have  been 
led  to  expect,  from  the  guide-book,  that  I  should 
see  the  blood  on  the  stones." 

The  beautiful  young  man,  Lord  Luffton,  now 
engaged  her  in  conversation,  and  as  Lady  Til- 
chester  and  I  left  the  hall  both  he  and  the  Duke 
were  escorting  Miss  Trumpet  to  the  dais  —  no 
doubt  to  turn  up  the  carpet  and  search  for  the 
traditional  blood  upon  the  steps. 

"They  are  the  most  wonderful  nation,"  Lady 
Tilchester  said,  as  she  linked  her  arm  in  mine. 
"Here  is  a  girl  looking  as  well  bred  as  any  of 
us — more  so  than  most  of  us — probably  beauti- 
fully educated,  and  accomplished,  too,  and  whose 
father  began  as  a  common  navvy  or  miner  out 
in  the  West.  The  mother  is  dead — she  took  in 
washing,  Cordelia  says  —  and  yet  she  was  the 
sister  of  Miss  Martina  B.  Cadwallader !  How  on 
earth  do  they  manage  to  look  like  this?" 

"It  is  wonderful,  certainly.  It  must  be  the 
climate,"  I  hazarded. 

213 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"  We  cannot  do  it  in  England.  Think  of  the 
terrible  creature  a  girl  with  such  parentage 
would  be  here.  Picture  her  ankles  and  hands! 
And  the  self-consciousness,  or  the  swagger,  this 
situation  would  display!" 

I  thought  of  Mrs.  Dodd  and  the  Gurrage  com- 
mercial relations  generally 

"Yes,  indeed/'  I  said. 

"They  are  so  adaptable/'  she  continued.  "It 
does  not  seem  to  matter  into  what  nation  they 
marry,  they  seem  to  assimilate  and  fit  into  their 
places.  When  this  little  thing  is  a  duchess,  you 
will  see  she  will  fulfil  the  position  to  a  tee. 
Berty  will  be  very  lucky  if  he  secures  her/' 

"  I  think  Lord  Luffton  will  be  a  much  greater 
stumbling-block  than  I  shall/'  I  laughed.  "Per- 
haps he  likes  the  idea  of  fifty  thousand  a  year, 
too/' 

"  Oh,  Cordelia  will  see  about  that.  Baby  kins, 
who  knows  everything,  tells  me  she  has  fallen 
wildly  in  love  with  Luffy.  He  has  only  arrived 
back  from  the  war  about  a  week.  And  she  will 
not  let  any  other  woman  interfere  with  her.  I 
had  heard  another  story  about  her  in  Scotland. 
They  told  me  she  was  having  an  affair  with 
some  " — she  stopped  suddenly,  no  doubt  remem- 
bering to  whom  she  was  talking — "foreigner." 
She  ended  the  sentence  with  perfect  tact. 

The  little  sitting-room  is  in  a  turret  and  is 
octagon-shaped,  a  dainty,  charming,  old-world 
room  that  grandmamma  might  have  lived  in. 

214 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

We  drew  two  chairs  up  to  the  fire  and  sat 
down  cosily. 

How  kind  and  gracious  and  altogether  charm- 
ing this  woman  can  be!  Again  I  can  only  com- 
pare her  to  the  sun's  rays,  so  warm  and  com- 
fortable she  makes  one  feel.  There  is  a  noble- 
ness and  a  loftiness  about  her  which  causes 
even  ordinary  things  she  says  to  sound  like 
fine  sentiments.  No  wonder  Mr.  Budge  adores 
her. 

We  spoke  very  little  of  people.  She  told  me 
of  her  interests  and  all  the  schemes  to  benefit 
mankind  she  has  in  hand.  At  last  she  said : 

"  You  have  not  been  to  Dane  Mount  yet,  have 
you?" 

"No.  We  are  going  there  on  Monday,  after 
we  leave  here." 

"  It  will  interest  you  deeply,  I  am  sure."  And 
she  looked  into  the  fire.  "  Antony  stayed  with 
you,  did  he  not?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  and  my  voice  sounded  strained, 
remembering  that  terrible  visit. 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  moments. 

"I  want  you  to  be  friends  with  me,  dear/' 
she  said,  so  gently.  "  You  are,  perhaps,  not  al- 
ways quite  happy,  and  if  ever  I  can  do  anything 
for  you  I  want  you  to  know  I  will." 

"Oh,  dear  LadyTilchester,"  I  said,  "you  have 
been  so  kind  and  good  to  me  already  I  shall 
never  forget  it.  And  I  am  a  stranger,  too,  and 
yet  you  have  troubled  about  me." 

215 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"I  liked  you  from  the  first  moment  we  met, 
at  the  Tilchester  ball.  And  Antony  is  so  inter- 
ested in  you,  and  we  are  such  dear  old  friends 
I  should  always  be  prejudiced  in  favor  of  any 
one  he  thought  worth  liking." 

There  were  numbers  of  things  I  wished  to  ask 
her,  but  somehow  my  tongue  felt  tied.  It  was 
almost  a  relief  when  she  turned  the  conversa- 
tion. 

Soon  the  daylight  faded  and  the  servants 
brought  lamps. 

"  It  is  almost  five/'  she  said,  at  last.  "  What 
a  happy  afternoon  we  have  had!  I  know  you 
ever  so  much  better  now,  dear.  Well,  I  suppose 
the  time  has  come  to  put  on  tea-gowns  and  de- 
scend to  see  how  affairs  are  progressing/' 

I  rose. 

"I  am  going  to  call  you  Ambrosine/'  she 
said,  and  she  kissed  me.  "I  am  not  given 
to  sudden  friendships,  but  there  is  something 
about  your  eyes  that  touches  me.  Oh,  dear,  I 
hope  fate  will  not  force  you  to  commit  some  mid- 
summer madness  as  I  did,  to  regret  to  the  end  of 
your  days!" 

All  the  way  to  my  room  her  words  puzzled  me. 
What  could  she  mean? 


XII 


THE  scene  was  picturesque  and  pretty  as  I 
looked  at  it  from  the  gallery  that  crosses  the 
hall. 

Tea  was  laid  out  on  a  large,  low  table,  with 
plates  and  jam  and  cakes  and  muffins — a  nice, 
comfortable,  substantial  meal.  A  fire  of  whole 
logs  burned  in  the  colossal,  open  chimney.  The 
huge,  heavily  shaded  lamps  concentrated  all  the 
light  beneath  them,  viewed  from  above. 

And  like  a  group  of  summer-flowers  the  wom- 
en, in  their  light  and  fluffy  tea-gowns,  added 
the  touch  of  grace  to  the  heavy  darkness  of  the 
old  stone  walls.  I  paused  a  while  and  watched 
them. 

Lady  Grenellen,  gorgeous  as  a  sultana,  seemed 
to  have  collected  all  the  cushions  to  enhance 
her  comfort  as  she  lay  back  in  a  low,  deep  sofa. 
Augustus  sat  beside  her.  From  here  one  could 
not  see  his  ugliness,  and  the  dark  claret  color 
of  his  smoking -suit  rather  set  off  her  gown. 
She  had  the  most  alluring  expression  upon  her 
face,  which  just  caught  the  light.  His  attitude 
was  humble.  The  storm,  for  the  present,  was 
over  between  them. 

217 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Two  other  women,  the  heiress,  Baby  kins,  and 
Lord  Tilchester,  and  several  young  men  sat  round 
the  table  like  children  eating  their  bread-and- 
jam. 

The  Duke  and  Miss  Martina  B.  Cadwallader 
were  examining  the  armor.  Some  one  was 
playing  the  piano  softly.  Merry  laughter  float- 
ed upward.  I  doubt  if  any  other  country  could 
produce  such  a  scene.  It  would  have  pleased 
grandmamma. 

"  Why,  by  the  stars  and  stripes,  there  is  a  ghost 
in  the  gallery!"  exclaimed  Miss  Corrisande  K. 
Trumpet,  pointing  to  me.  The  faint  glimmer 
of  my  white  velvet  tea-gown  must  have  caught 
her  eyes  as  I  moved  away. 

"No,  I  am  not  a  ghost,"  I  called,  "and  I  am 
coming  down  to  eat  hot  muffins."  So  I  crossed 
and  descended  the  turret  stairs. 

Lady  Tilchester  had  not  appeared  yet. 

I  sat  down  at  the  table  next "  Billy. "  It  was  all 
so  gay  and  friendly  no  one  could  feel  depressed. 

Viewed  close,  Miss  Trumpet  was,  for  her  age, 
too  splendidly  attired.  She  looked  prettier  in  her 
simple  travelling-dress.  But  her  spirits  and  her 
repartee  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  She  kept  us 
all  amused,  and,  whether  Lady  Grenellen  would 
eventually  permit  it  or  no,  Lord  Luffton  seemed 
immensely  6pris  with  her  now. 

There  was  only  one  other  girl  at  the  table, 
Lady  Agatha  de  Champion,  and  her  slouching, 
stooping  figure  and  fuzzled  hair  did  not  show  to 

218 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

advantage  beside  the  heiress's  upright,  rounded 
shape  and  well-brushed  waves. 

"  Where  have  you  been  all  the  afternoon?"  de- 
manded the  Duke,  reproachfully,  over  my  shoul- 
der. "I  searched  everywhere  down-stairs,  and 
finally  sent  to  your  room,  but  your  maid  knew 
nothing  of  you/' 

"I  have  been  sitting  with  Lady  Tilchester  in 
her  sitting-room/'  I  said,  smiling. 

"  Here  comes  Margaret.  She  shall  answer  to 
me  for  kidnapping  my  guests  like  this/'  And 
he  went  forward  to  meet  her. 

"Do  not  scold  me,"  said  Lady  Tilchester,  as 
she  returned  with  him.  '  "  I  think  Mrs.  Gurrage 
will  tell  you  we  have  spent  a  very  pleasant 
afternoon." 

"Indeed,  yes,"  I  said. 

"And  I  mean  to  spend  a  pleasant  evening," 
he  whispered,  low,  to  me.  "  As  soon  as  you  have 
eaten  that  horrid  muffin  I  shall  carry  you  off 
to  see  my  pictures." 

I  looked  at  Lady  Tilchester.  What  would  she 
wish  me  to  do? 

"Impress  upon  him  the  necessity  of  being 
charming  to  the  heiress.  You  were  quite  right. 
He  has  a  serious  rival,"  she  whispered,  and  we 
walked  off. 

The  Duke  can  be  agreeable  in  his  unattrac- 
tive, lackadaisical  way.  He  is  so  full  of  informa- 
tion, not  of  the  statistical  kind  like  Miss  Trum- 
pet, but  the  result  of  immense  cultivation-. 

219 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  heiress?"  he  said, 
at  last,  as  we  paused  beneath  a  Tintoretto.  I 
said  everything  suitable  and  encouraging  I  could 
think  of. 

"I  am  quite  pleased  with  her/'  he  allowed, 
"but  I  fear  she  will  not  be  content  with  the  role 
I  had  planned  out  for  my  Duchess.  She  is 
too  individual.  I  feel  it  is  I  who  would  sub- 
side and  attend  to  the  nurseries  and  the  spring 
cleaning.  However,  I  mean  to  go  through  with 
it,  although  I  am  in  a  hideous  position,  because, 
you  know,  I  am  falling  very  deeply  in  love  with 
you/' 

"How  inconvenient  for  you!"  I  said,  smiling. 
"  But  please  do  not  let  that  interfere  with  your 
prospects.  You  must  attend  to  the  subject  of 
pleasing  the  heiress,  as  I  see  great  signs  of  Lord 
Luff  ton  cutting  the  ground  from  under  your  feet." 

He  stared  at  me  incredulously. 

"Luffy!"  he  said,  aghast.  "Oh,  but  Cordelia 
would  take  care  of  that.  He  is  her  friend." 

"Oh,  how  you  amuse  me,  all  of  you,"  I  said, 
laughing,  "  with  your  loves  and  your  jealousies 
and  your  little  arrangements!  Every  one  two 
and  two;  every  one  with  a  'friend/' 

"Anyway,  we  are  not  wearyingly  faithful." 

"No;  but  to  a  stranger  you  ought  to  issue  a 
kind  of  guide-book — 'Trespassers  will  be  prose- 
cuted' here,  'A  change  would  be  welcomed' 
there,  etc." 

"Ton  my  word  new  editions  would  have 
220 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

to  come  out  every  three  months,  then.  In  the 
space  of  a  year  you  would  find  a  general  shuffle 
had  taken  place." 

"Shall  you  let  your  Duchess  have  a  'friend '?" 
I  asked. 

He  mused  a  little. 

"  Could  I  have  found  my  cow  brewer's  daugh- 
ter, she  would  have  been  too  virtuously  middle 
class  to  have  thought  of  such  a  thing.  And  if 
I  take  this  American — well,  the  Americans  are 
so  new  a  nation  they  have  still  a  moral  sense. 
So  I  think  I  am  pretty  safe." 

"Old  nations  are  deficient  in  this  quality, 
then?" 

"Yes.  Artificial  things  are  more  worn  out, 
and  they  get  back  nearer  to  nature." 

"But  you  would  object  to  a  'friend'?" 

"Considerably,  until  the  succession  was  firm- 
ly secured.  After  that,  I  suppose,  my  Duchess 
might  please  herself.  She  probably  would,  too, 
without  consulting  me.-  You  don't  see  the  whole 
of  your  neighbors  eating  cake  and  remain  content 
with  your  own  monotonous  bread-and-butter." 

This  appeared  to  be  very  true.  He  continued 
in  a  meditative  way : 

"  Because  a  few  what  we  call  civilized  nations 
have  set  up  a  standard  of  morality  for  them- 
selves, that  does  not  change  the  ways  of  human 
nature.  What  we  call  morality  has  no  existence 
in  the  natural  world." 

"  Why  should  the  respectable  middle  -  class 
221 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

brewer's  daughter  have  so  strong  a  sense  of 
it,  then?"  I  asked. 

"  Because  propriety  is  their  god  from  one  gen- 
eration to  another.  You  can  almost  overcome 
nature  with  a  god  sometimes.  Babykins  has  a 
theory  that  the  food  we  eat  makes  a  difference 
in  the  ways  of  our  class,  but  I  don't  believe  that. 
It  is  because  we  hunt  and  shoot  and  live  lives 
of  inclination,  not  compulsion,  like  the  middle 
classes,  and  so  we  get  back  nearer  to  nature." 

"You  are  a  sophist,  I  fear,"  I  said,  smiling. 
"  See,  here  is  Miss  Martina  B.  Cadwallader  ad- 
vancing upon  us.  Stern  virtue  is  on  every  line 
of  her  face,  anyway!" 

"Pardon  me,  Book,"  she  said,  "but  the  guide 
to  Myrlton  I  purchased  at  the  station  gave  me 
to  understand  I  should  find  a  second  portrait  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  in  this  gallery.  I  cannot  see 
it.  Would  you  be  good  enough  to  indicate  the 
picture  to  me?" 

"Oh,  that  was  a  duplicate,"  said  the  Duke, 
resignedly.  "I  sold  it  at  Christie's  last  year. 
It  brought  me  in  ten  thousand  pounds — more 
than  it  was  worth.  I  lived  in  comfort  upon  it 
for  quite  six  months." 

"You  don't  say!"  said  Miss  Martina  B.  Cad- 
wallader. 

Before  the  party  said  good-night,  the  mean- 
est observer  could  have  told  that  things  were 
going  at  sixes  and  sevens,  no  one  doing  ex- 
actly what  was  expected  of  them. 

222 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Signs  of  disturbance  showed  as  early  as  the 
few  minutes  before  dinner. 

Lord  Luffton  was  openly  seeking  the  society  of 
the  heiress,  with  no  regard  to  the  blandishments 
of  Lady  Grenellen.  But  by  half-past  eleven  the 
clouds  had  spread  all  round. 

Augustus,  perhaps,  looked  the  most  upset. 
He  had  spent  an  evening  on  thorns  of  jeal- 
ousy. First,  snubbed  sharply  by  the  fair  Cor- 
delia; then,  having  to  witness  her  ineffectual 
attempts  to  detach  Lord  Luffton  from  Miss 
Trumpet. 

The  Duke,  while  devoting  himself  to  me,  could 
not  quite  conceal  his  annoyance  at  the  turn  af- 
fairs were  taking. 

Miss  Martina  B.  Cadwallader  was  plainly  ir- 
ritated with  her  niece  for  not  attending  to  the 
business  they  had  come  for.  Babykins  was  ex- 
erting her  mosquito  propensities  and  stinging 
every  one  all  round.  In  fact,  only  the  few  cas- 
ual guests,  who  did  not  count  one  way  or  an- 
other, seemed  calm  and  undisturbed. 

"It  is  really  provoking/'  Lady  Tilchester  said 
to  me.  "What  on  earth  did  they  ask  Luffy 
here  for?  He  is  noted  for  this  sort  of  thing, 
and,  of  course,  posing  as  a  war  hero  adds  an 
extra  lustre  to  his  charms/' 

The  only  two  people  supremely  unconscious  of 
delinquencies  were  the  causes  of  all  the  trouble — 
Lord  Luffton  and  Miss  Trumpet. 

They  had  gone  off  to  look  at  the  pictures 
223 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

in  the  long  gallery,  and  at  twenty  minutes  to 
twelve  were  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

Lady  Glenellen's  eyes  flashed  ominously. 

"Let  us  go  to  bed,"  she  said.  "Berty,  why 
don't  you  have  the  lights  turned  out?" 

Fortunately  the  aunt  did  not  hear  this  remark. 
As  her  face  showed,  she  was  quite  capable  of  a 
sharp  reply  to  anything,  and  though,  no  doubt,  an- 
noyed with  the  niece,  would  certainly  defend  her. 

"We  had  better  go  and  look  for  them,*'  said 
the  Duke. 

"Perhaps  they  have  fallen  down  the  oubli- 
ette/' suggested  Baby  kins. 

"  You  don't  tell  me  there  is  danger?"  demanded 
Miss  Martina  B.  Cadwallader,  anxiously.  "On 
this  trip  I  am  answerable  to  her  poppa  for  Cor- 
risande's  safety." 

We  started,  more  or  less  in  a  body,  towards  the 
gallery,  Lady  Tilchester,  with  her  usual  tact, 
stopping  to  point  out  any  notable  picture  or 
tapestry  to  the  aunt  on  the  way,  so  that  the 
search  should  not  look  too  pointed. 

In  the  farthest  corner,  perched  on  a  high  win- 
dow-seat— that  must  have  required  a  knowledge 
of  vaulting  to  reach — sat  the  guilty  pair,  dan- 
gling their  feet.  Anything  more  engaging  than 
Miss  Trumpet  looked  could  not  be  imagined. 
The  tiniest  pink  satin  slippers  peeped  out  of  bil- 
lows of  exquisite  dessous.  Her  little  face  seemed 
a  mass  of  dimpling  smiles.  Not  a  trace  of  em- 
barrassment appeared  in  her  manner. 

224 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"I  say,  Duke/'  she  called,  "you  have  got  a 
sweet  place  here.  We  have  been  watching  for 
the  monk  to  pass,  but  he  has  not  come  yet/' 

The  Duke  stepped  forward  to  help  her  down. 

"  Don't  you  trouble/'  she  said.  "  Why,  we  had 
a  gymnasium  at  the  convent.  I  can  jump." 

Lady  Grenellen  now  appeared  upon  the  scene. 
She  looked  like  an  angry  cat.  I  turned,  with 
Lady  Tilchester,  and  left  the  rest  of  the  party. 
What  happened  I  do  not  know,  but  when  they 
joined  us  all  in  the  hall  again  the  heiress  was 
with  the  Duke,  Lord  Luffton  walked  alone, 
while  Augustus,  once  more  beaming,  was  close 
to  Lady  Grenellen's  side.  So  it  is  an  ill  wind 
that  blows  no  one  any  good. 

Next  day,  after  a  delightful  shooting-lunch  and 
a  brisk  walk  back,  the  heiress  came  to  my  room 
and  talked  to  me. 

She  had  apparently  taken  a  great  fancy  to 
me,  and  we  had  had  several  conversations. 

"I  don't  know  why,  but  you  give  me  the  im- 
pression that  you  are  a  stranger,  too,  like  Aunt 
Martina  and  me,"  she  said.  "You  don't  look 
at  all  like  the  rest  of  the  Englishwomen.  Why, 
your  back  is  not  nearly  so  long.  I  could  almost 
take  you  for  an  American,  you  are  so  chic.'' 

I  laughed. 

"Even  Lady  Tilchester,  who  is  by  far  the 
nicest  and  grandest  of  them,  does  not  look  such 
an  aristocrat  as  you  do." 

(Miss  Trumpet  pronounces  it  armZ-tocrat.) 
is  225 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"I  assure  you,  I  am  a  very  ordinary  person/' 
I  said.  "  But  you  are  right,  I  am  a  stranger,  too. ' ' 

"Now  I  am  glad  to  hear  that/'  said  Miss 
Trumpet,  beginning  to  polish  her  nails  with  my 
polisher,  which  was  lying  on  the  dressing-table. 
"  Because  then  I  can  talk  to  you.  You  know 
I  have  come  here  to  sample  the  Duke.  Poppa 
is  so  set  on  the  idea  of  my  being  a  duchess. 
But  it  seems  to  me,  if  you  are  going  to  buy  a 
husband,  you  might  as  well  buy  the  one  you  like 
best.  Don't  you  think  so?" 

"I  entirely  agree  with  you/'  I  said,  feelingly. 
"You  would  probably  be  happier  with  the  one 
you  prefer,  even  if  he  were  only  a  humble  baron." 
And  I  smiled  at  her  slyly. 

"  Now  that  is  just  what  I  wanted  to  ask  you 
about.  But  if  I  took  Lord  Luffton,  instead  of 
the  Duke,  should  I  have  to  walk  a  long  way  be- 
hind at  the  Coronation  next  year?" 

"I  am  afraid  you  would,"  I  said. 

She  looked  puzzled  and  undecided. 

"That  is  worrying  me,"  she  said.  "As  for 
the  men  themselves  —  well,  we  don't  think  so 
much  of  them  over  in  America  as  you  do  here. 
It  is  no  wonder  Englishmen  are  so  full  of  as- 
surance, the  way  they  are  treated.  You  would 
never  find  an  American  woman  showing  a  man 
she  was  madly  jealous  of  him,  like  Lady  Grenel- 
len  did  last  night.  Why,  we  keep  them  in  their 
places  across  the  Atlantic." 

"So  I  have  heard,"  I  said. 
226 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"I  have  been  accustomed  to  be  run  after  all 
my  life,"  she  continued,  "so  it  does  not  amount 
to  anything,  a  man  making  love  to  me.  But  he 
is  beautiful,  isn't  he? — Lord  Luffton,  I  mean." 

"Yes,  though  he  has  the  reputation  of  great 
fickleness.  The  Duke  would  probably  make  a 
better  husband,"  I  said. 

I  felt  I  owed  it  to  Lady  Tilchester  to  do  some- 
thing towards  advancing  the  cause. 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,  a  man  always  makes  a  good 
enough  husband  if  you  have  the  control  of  the 
dollars,  and  poppa  would  see  to  that,"  said  Miss 
Trumpet. 

This  seemed  so  true  I  had  nothing  to  say. 

"Now,  I  will  tell  you,"  she  continued,  ex- 
amining her  nails,  which  shone  as  bright  as 
glass.  "  I  have  got  a  kind  of  soft  feeling  for  that 
Baron,  but  I  would  like  to  be  an  English  duchess. 
Now,  which  would  you  take,  if  you  were  me?" 

"Oh,  I  could  not  possibly  advise  you,"  I  said. 
"You  must  weigh  the  advantages,  and  your 
level  head  will  be  sure  to  choose  for  the  best." 

"  The  position  of  an  English  duchess  is  splen- 
did, though,  isn't  it?  An  Italian  duke  came 
over  last  fall,  and  poppa  thought  of  him  for 
about  a  day.  But  there  is  the  bother  of  a  foreign 
language,  and  all  their  silly  ways  to  learn,  so 
I  told  poppa  I  would  have  an  English  one  or 
marry  an  American.  It  does  seem  a  pity  I 
can't  have  both  the  Baron  and  the  Duke!"  and 
she  laughed  with  girlish  mirth. 

227 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  thought  of  my  conversation  the  night  be- 
fore, and  wondered. 

That  evening  the  Duke,  also,  made  me  con- 
fidences. 

He  was  immensely  taken  with  Miss  Trum- 
pet, he  allowed,  and  could  almost  look  upon  the 
matter  as  a  pleasure  instead  of  a  duty  now. 

"If  you  had  shown  the  slightest  sign  that 
you  would  ever  care  for  me,  I  should  not  have 
thought  of  her,  though/'  he  said.  "You  will 
be  sorry,  one  day,  that  you  are  as  cold  as  ice." 

"Why  should  a  person  be  accused  of  hav- 
ing no  musical  sense  because  one  particular 
tune  does  not  cause  one  rhapsodies?"  I  asked. 
"  The  one  idea  of  a  man  seems  to  be,  if  a  woman 
does  not  adore  him  personally,  it  is  because 
she  is  as  cold  as  ice.  Surely  that  is  illogical." 

He  looked  at  me  very  straightly  for  a  moment. 

"I  believe  you  do  care  for  some  one,"  he  said. 
"I  shall  watch  and  see." 

"Very  well,"  I  laughed. 

None  of  the  people  I  have  met  since  my  mar- 
riage have  seemed  to  think  it  possible  that  I 
should  care  for  Augustus,  or  that  my  wedding- 
ring  should  be  the  slightest  bar  to  my  feelings 
or  their  advances. 

"You  are  a  dangerously  attractive  woman, 
you  know — one's  idea  of  what  a  lady  ought  to 
look  like.  And  you  move  with  a  grace  one  never 
sees  now.  And  your  eyes  —  your  eyes  are  the 

228 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

eyes  of  the  Sphinx.  I  fancy,  if  I  could  make  you 
care,  I  would  forget  all  the  world.  I  am  glad  you 
are  going  to-morrow/' 

"I  understood  you  to  say  you  were  greatly 
attracted  by  Miss  Trumpet/'  I  said,  demurely. 

And  so  the  evening  passed. 

"I  think  it  is  going  all  right/'  Lady  Tilches- 
ter  said  to  me  as  we  walked  up-stairs  together. 
"They  are  making  arrangements  to  meet  in 
London,  and  Luffy  has  not  been  asked  to  join 
the  theatre-party." 

"  No.  He  is  going  to  lunch  and  to  take  them 
to  skate,"  I  said. 

" Oh,  the  clever  girl!"  and  she  laughed.  "But 
I  expect  she  will  decide  to  be  a  duchess,  in  the 
end." 

"If  you  could  tell  her  anything  especially 
splendid  about  her  position  at  the  Coronation 
next  year,  should  she  accept  the  Duke,  I  am 
sure  it  would  have  an  effect." 

"  Cordelia  is  behaving  like  a  fool  about  it. 
She  asked  them  here,  and  made  all  the  arrange- 
ments, and  now  is  absolutely  uncivil  to  them." 

"How  flattered  Lord  Luffton  ought  to  be!" 
I  laughed. 

"Yes,  if  it  were  any  one  else;  but  Cordelia 
has  too  many  fancies.  How  glad  one  should 
be  that  one  has  other  interests  in  life!  Really, 
when  I  look  round  at  most  of  my  friends,  I  feel 
thankful.  Perhaps,  otherwise,  I  should  have  been 
as  they  are." 

229 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Augustus  had  greatly  profited  by  Lord  Luff- 
ton's  defection.  Whether  it  was  to  make  the 
latter  jealous,  I  do  not  know,  but  Lady  Grenel- 
len  had  been  remarkably  gracious  to  him  all  the 
evening. 

I  learned,  casually,  that  she  was  to  be  the 
fourth  at  Dane  Mount. 

"We  shall  be  such  a  little  party/'  she  said. 
"Only  myself  and  you  and  your  husband.  I 
asked  Antony  to  take  me  in,  as  it  is  on  the 
road  to  Headbrook,  where  I  go  the  next  day.  I 
thought  he  was  having  a  large  party,  though." 

I  wished  she  was  not  going;  there  seemed 
something  degrading  about  the  arrangement. 

I  had  not  let  myself  think  of  this  visit.  And 
now  it  would  be  the  day  but  one  after  to-morrow ! 

A  strange  restlessness  and  excitement  took 
possession  of  me.  I  could  not  sleep. 

It  was  a  raw,  foggy  morning  when  we  all  left 
Myrlton.  The  Duke  accompanied  us  to  London, 
and  we  were  a  merry  party  in  the  train,  in  spite 
of  eight  of  us  playing  bridge. 

Augustus  told  me  he  had  business  in  town, 
and  would  stay  the  night  and  over  Sunday, 
arriving  at  Dane  Mount  by  the  four -o'clock 
train  on  Monday. 

"If  you  leave  home  at  three,  in  the  motor/' 
he  said,  "  we  shall  get  there  exactly  at  the  same 
time/' 

And  so  I  returned  to  Ledstone  alone. 
230 


XIII 

THE  fog  was  white  round  the  windows  as  I 
came  down  to  my  solitary  breakfast  on  the  4th. 
My 'heart  sank.  What  if  it  should  be  too  thick 
for  me  to  start?  I  could  not  bear  to  think  of 
the  disappointment  that  would  be. 

I  forced  myself  to  practise  for  an  hour  after 
breakfast.  Then  I  wrote  a  long  letter  to  the 
Marquis  de  Rochermont.  Then  I  looked  again 
at  my  watch  and  again  at  the  fog.  I  should 
start  at  half-past  two,  to  give  plenty  of  time,  as 
we  should  certainly  have  to  go  slowly. 

At  last,  at  last,  luncheon  came.  I  never  felt 
less  hungry,  nor  had  the  servants  ever  appeared 
so  pompous  and  slow.  It  seemed  as  if  it  could 
never  be  half-past  two. 

However,  it  struck  eventually,  and  the  auto- 
mobile came  round  to  the  door. 

For  the  first  five  miles  the  fog  was  very  thick. 
We  had  to  creep  along.  Then  it  lifted  a  little,  then 
fell  again.  But  at  half -past  four  we  turned  into 
the  lodge-gates.  I  could  see  nothing  in  front  of 
me.  The  trees  seemed  like  gaunt  ghosts,  with  the 
mist  and  the  dying  daylight.  The  drive  across 
the  park  and  up  the  long  avenue  was  ffaught 

231 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

with  difficulty.  Even  when  we  arrived  I  could 
see  nothing  but  the  bright  lights  from  the  win- 
dows. But  as  the  door  was  thrown  open,  I  real- 
ized that  Antony  was  standing  there  against  the 
flood  of  brightness. 

I  seem  always  to  be  saying  my  heart  beats, 
but  there  is  no  other  way  of  describing  the  ex- 
traordinary and  unusual  physical  sensation  that 
happens  to  me  when  I  meet  this  man. 

"Welcome!"  he  said,  as  he  helped  me  out  of 
the  automobile.  "Welcome  to  Dane  Mount!" 

A  broad  corridor,  full  of  trophies  of  the  chase 
and  armor  and  carved  oak,  leads  to  a  splendid 
hall,  high  to  the  top  of  the  house,  with  a  great 
staircase  and  galleries  running  round.  It  is 
hung  with  tapestry  and  pictures,  and  full  of  old 
and  beautiful  furniture. 

Three  huge,  rough-coated  hounds  lay  on  the 
lion-skin  before  the  fire.  They  rose,  haughtily, 
to  greet  me. 

"Ulfus,  Belfus,  and  Bedevere,  come  and  be 
introduced  to  a  fair  lady,"  said  Antony.  "You 
can  be  quite  civil,  she  is  of  the  family/' 

The  dogs  came  forward. 

"What  darlings!"  I  said,  and  patted  them  all. 
They  received  the  caresses  with  dignity,  and, 
without  gush,  made  me  understand  they  were 
glad  to  see  me. 

Then  we  said  some  banal  things  to  each  other 
— Antony  and  I — about  the  fog  and  the  difficulty 
of  getting  here  and  the  length  of  the  drive. 

232 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  did  not  look  at  him  much.  I  felt  excited 
and  awkward — and  happy. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  let  you  stay  here  a  minute 
in  those  damp  things/'  he  said.  "I  shall  give 
you  into  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Harrison,  my  house- 
keeper, to  take  you  to  your  room.  When  you 
have  got  into  a  tea-gown,  you  will  find  me  here 
again."  And  he  rang  the  bell. 

Grandmamma  would  have  approved  of  Mrs. 
Harrison  when  she  appeared.  She  is  like  the 
housekeepers  one  reads  of  in  books — stately  and 
plump,  and  clothed  in  black  silk,  with  a  fat,  gold- 
and-cameo  brooch  fastening  a  neat  cambric  collar. 

She  conducted  me  up  the  staircase  and  into 
the  most  exquisite  bedroom  I  have  ever  dreamed 
of  in  my  life. 

It  is  white,  and  panelled,  and  full  of  really  old 
and  beautiful  French  furniture.  Everything  is 
in  keeping,  even  to  the  locks  on  the  doors  and 
the  bell-ropes.  How  grandmamma  would  have 
appreciated  this!  And  the  fineness  of  the  linen, 
and  the  softness  of  the  pillows  and  sofa-cush- 
ions! And  everywhere  great  bowls  of  roses — 
my  favorite  flower.  Roses  in  November! 

"Oh,  what  a  lovely  room!"  I  exclaimed,  as  I 
went  round  and  looked  at  everything. 

"It  is  pretty,  ma'am.  It  has  only  just  been 
arranged,"  said  Mrs.  Harrison,  much  gratified. 
"  Sir  Antony  bid  me  ask  you  to  order  anything 
you  can  possibly  want." 

Then  she  indicated  which  bell  rang  into  my 
233 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

maid's  room  and  which  for  the  house -maids, 
and  with  a  few  more  polite  wishes  for  my  com- 
fort, and  the  information  that  the  room  prepared 
for  Augustus  was  some  way  down  the  corridor, 
on  the  right,  she  left  me  in  McGreggor's  hands. 

With  great  promptness  the  luggage  had  been 
carried  up,  so  I  was  not  long  getting  into  a  tea- 
gown. 

Augustus  and  Lady  Grenellen  would  have  ar- 
rived by  the  time  I  got  down  to  the  hall  again. 
They  ought  to  have  been  here  before  me,  but  no 
doubt  the  train  was  late. 

The  soft  crepe  de  chine  of  my  skirts  made  no 
frou-frou.  Antony  did  not  see  me  as  I  looked 
over  the  bend  of  the  stairs  descending ;  he  was 
staring  into  the  fire,  an  expression  I  have  never 
seen  before  on  his  face. 

I  stopped.     Presently  he  looked  up. 

"  How  silently  you  came,  Comtesse !  I  did  not 
hear  you." 

"  You  were  thinking  deeply.  Upon  what  grave 
matters  of  state?" 

"None  at  all.  Do  you  know  Lady  Grenel- 
len and  your  husband  have  not  arrived?  The 
brougham  has  with  difficulty  returned  from  the 
station  after  waiting  until  the  train  was  in,  and 
there  was  no  sign  of  them." 

A  joy,  unbidden  and  instantly  suppressed,  per- 
vaded me  as  he  spoke. 

"  Perhaps  they  missed  the  train  and  will  catch 
the  next,"  I  hazarded. 

234 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"The  fog  in  London  is  quite  exceptional,  the 
guard  said.  I  have  given  orders  for  the  coach- 
man to  return  and  try  for  the  next  train.  It  gets 
in  at  6.42.  After  that  there  is  one  at  7,  and  the 
last  one  is  at  10.18.  But  they  will  probably  tele- 
graph/' 

"It  makes  me  laugh/'  I  said. 

"Come  and  have  tea.  We  shall  not  bother 
our  heads  about  them.  They  are,  fortunately, 
well  able  to  take  care  of  themselves/' 

Antony  led  the  way  to  the  library,  where  the 
tea  was  laid  out. 

I  never  have  sat  in  such  a  comfortable  sofa 
or  felt  more  cosily  at  home.  Everything  pleased 
me.  All  is  in  perfect  taste. 

Antony  talked  to  me  gayly  as  he  gave  me 
some  tea.  It  was  as  if  he  wanted  to  remove  the 
least  feeling  of  awkwardness  this  unusual  situ- 
ation might  possibly  cause  me  to  feel. 

Ulfus,  Belfus,  and  Bedevere  had  followed  us, 
and  now  lay,  like  three  grim  guardians,  upon  the 
tiger-skin  hearth-rug. 

"How  is  your  arm?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  that  is  all  right.  I  had  the  shot  taken 
out  and  it  has  quite  healed  up.  Wonderful  es- 
cape we  had  that  day'/'  And  he  laughed. 

"  And  you  were  so  good  about  it !  Augustus 
said  he  would  have  shot  back  if  Mr.  Dodd  had 
hit  him." 

"Mrs.  Dodd  would  have  made  a  nice  target. 
One  does  not  often  come  across  a  person 'like 

235 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

that.  Are  ajl  your  guests  at  Ledstone  of  the 
same  sort  as  those  I  met?" 

"No.  Some  of  them  are  worse/'  I  replied, 
gravely,  smiling  at  him.  "  Next  time  you  shall 
come  to  an  earlier  party.  You  would  enjoy 
that."  And  I  laughed,  thinking  of  the  first 
batch  of  relations  we  had  entertained. 

"I  will  come  whenever  you  ask  me/'  he  said, 
quite  simply. 

"  No.  You  know  I  would  never  ask  you  again, 
if  I  could  help  it.  Oh,  you  were  so  kind,  but  it — " 
I  stopped.  I  did  not  know  how  to  say  what  I 
meant.  I  had  better  not  have  said  so  much. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  have  that  feeling.  It 
amuses  me  to  come,  Comtesse,  only  you  feed 
one  too  well.  Do  you  remember  how  I  drank 
everything  I  could  get  hold  of,  to  please  you?" 

"You  were  ridiculous!"     And  I  laughed. 

"I  thought  I  was  heroic."  Then,  in  another 
voice:  "I  think  you  must  have  that  boudoir 
altered  a  little,  you  know,  before  long.  I  can't 
say  I  found  your  sofa  comfortable." 

"  Not  like  this."    And  I  lay  back  luxuriously. 

"I  generally  choose  things  with  a  reason,  if 
I  can." 

"That  sounds  like  one  of  grandmamma's 
speeches."  Then  I  stupidly  blushed,  remember- 
ing, apropos  of  what  she  had  said,  almost  the 
same  thing.  It  was  when  she  accepted  Mrs. 
Gurrage's  invitation  to  the  ball,  where  she  cal- 
culated I  should  meet  Antony.  That  was  be- 

236 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

fore  she  had  the  fainting-fit.  I  stared  into  the 
fire.  What  would  have  happened  by  now,  if  she 
could  have  carried  out  that  plan — the  "  suitable 
and  happy"  arrangement  of  my  future! 

"Comtesse,  why  do  you  stop  suddenly  and 
blush,  and  then  stare  into  the  fire?  Your  grand- 
mother was  not,  I  am  sure,  in  the  habit  of  say- 
ing such  startling  things  as  to  cause  you  such 
emotions/' 

I  looked  up  at  him.  I  suppose  my  eyes  were 
troubled,  for  he  said,  so  gently : 

"  Dear  little  girl,  I  won't  tease  you.  Tell  me, 
have  you  read  any  more  books  on  philosophy 
lately?" 

I  drank  the  last  sip  of  my  tea,  and  held  out 
my  cup.  It  was  nice  tea. 

"No,  I  have  not  had  time  to  read  anything. 
There,  you  can  take  my  cup.  You  have  such 
pretty  things  here.  Everything  is  suitable,  and 
it  gives  me  pleasure.  I  don't  feel  philosophical  ; 
I  feel  genuine  human  enjoyment." 

"That  is  good  to  know.  Well,  we  won't  be 
philosophical,  then,  we  will  be  humanly  happy/' 
and  he  sat  down  beside  me. 

I  took  up,  idly,  a  little  book  that  was  lying 
on  a  table  near,  because  my  silly  heart  had  be- 
gun to  beat  again,  like  Lydia  Languish  or  any 
vaporish  young  lady  in  an  early  romance.  I 
looked  at  the  title  and  Antony  looked  at  me. 
I  read  it  over  without  taking  in  the  sense, 
then  the  name  arrested  my  attention. 
i  237 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

"A  Digit  of  the  Moon/'  I  said.  "What  a 
queer  title!" 

"What  long  eyelashes  you  have,  Comtesse!" 
said  Antony,  apropos  of  nothing.  "  They  make 
a  great  shadow  on  your  cheek,  and  they  have 
no  business  to  be  so  dark,  with  your  light,  mud- 
colored  hair." 

"How  rude,  to  call  my  hair  mud-colored!"  I 
said,  indignantly.  "I  always  thought  it  was 
blond  cendre." 

"So  it  is,  and  it  shines  like  burnished  metal. 
But  you  are  a  vain  little  thing,  I  expect,  and  I 
did  not  wish  to  encourage  you." 

His  voice  was  full  of  a  caress.  I  did  not  dare 
to  look  into  his  queer  cat's  eyes. 

"You  have  black  eyelashes  yourself,  and  as 
I  am  of  the  family,  why  may  I  not  have  them 
too?"  I  said,  pouting. 

"Of  course  you  can  have  them  or  anything 
else  you  wish,  to  oblige  you.  But  I  should  rather 
like  to  know  how  long  your  hair  is  when  you 
let  it  down.  You  look  as  if  you  had  a  great 
quantity  there,  but  probably  it  is  not  all  your 
own."  And  he  smiled  provokingly. 

"If  I  was  not  afraid  of  the  servants  coming 
in  I  would  undo  it  to  show  you,"  I  replied,  with 
great  indignation  and  a  sudden  feeling  that  I, 
too,  could  tease.  "I  never  heard  anything  so 
insulting!" 

"  My  servants  are  well  trained.  It  is  not  six 
o'clock  yet.  They  won't  come  in  until  half- 

238 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

past  six,  unless  I  ring.  You  have  plenty  of 
time." 

A  spirit  of  coquetterie  came  over  me  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life.  I  took  out  the  two  great 
tortoise-shell  pins  that  held  it  up,  and  let  my 
hair  tumble  down  around  me.  It  falls  in  heavy 
waves  nearly  to  my  knees . 

"That  is  perfectly  beautiful!"  said  Antony,  al- 
most reverently.  "I  apologize.  It  is  your  own." 

I  got  up  and  shook  it  out  and  stood  before 
him.  It  hung  all  round  me  like  a  cloak.  Oh,  I 
was  in  a  wicked  mood,  and  I  do  not  defend  my 
conduct. 

"Comtesse,"  he  said,  and  his  eyes  swam, 
"  fiendish  little  temptress,  put  up  that  hair.  And 
come,  I  will  tell  you  about  A  Digit  of  the  Moon." 

I  pretended  to  feel  greatly  snubbed,  and  in  a 
minute  had  twisted  it  to  my  head  again. 

"It  is  a  queer  title,"  I  said. 

Antony  talked  a  little  faster  than  usual.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  was  breathing  rather  quickly. 

"  I  shall  give  you  this  book.  It  only  came  out 
last  year.  I  think  it  is  one  of  the  most  delight- 
ful things  that  ever  was  written.  You  must 
read  it  carefully."  And  he  put  it  into  my  hand. 
"  The  description,  in  the  beginning,  of  the  ingre- 
dients which  God  used  to  create  woman  is  quite 
exquisite.  Listen,  I  will  read  it  to  you."  And 
he  took  the  book  again. 

His  voice  is  the  most  refined  and  the  tones  are 
deep.  One  cannot  say  what  quality  there  is  in 

239 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

some  voices  and  pronunciation  that  makes  them 
so  attractive.  If  Antony  were  an  ugly  man  he 
still  would  be  alluring  with  such  a  voice  as  his. 
I  listened  intently  until  the  last  word. 

"It  is,  indeed,  a  beautiful  description/'  I  said. 

"  You  probably  are  all  those  things,  Comtesse, 
except,  perhaps,  the  '  chattering  of  the  monkeys. ' 
You  don't  speak  much/' 

"And  do  you  feel  like  'man'?" 

"That  I  cannot  do  with  you,  or  without  you? 
Yes,  especially  the  latter  part  of  the  sentence." 

I  got  up  from  the  sofa  and  looked  about  the 
room.  It  seemed  as  if  we  were  getting  on  dan- 
gerous ground. 

"  How  comfortable  men  make  their  habitations! 
And  I  like  the  smell,"  I  said,  sniffing.  "The 
pine-logs,  I  suppose." 

"  And  the  cedar  panelling,  perhaps,  scents  the 
place  a  little  when  it  gets  hot." 

"You  have  thousands  of  books  here."  And  I 
looked  round  at  the  high  shelves  between  the 
long  windows.  "  And  what  a  nice  piano !  How 
happy  you  must  be!" 

"I  should  have  been  —  and  am  sometimes, 
still,"  he  said.  "The  Duke  had  a  good  room, 
too,  at  Myrlton." 

I  sat  down  on  the  sofa  again.  Antony  had 
risen  and  leaned  against  the  mantel-piece.  He 
was  idly  pulling  the  ears  of  Bedevere,  who,  sitting 
there,  reached  up  into  his  hand.  I  never  could 
have  imagined  dogs  so  big  as  are  these  three. 

240 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"Of  course  you  went  to  Myrlton.  I  had  for- 
gotten. The  Duke  made  love  to  you,  I  suppose?" 

"Why  should  you  suppose?" 

"Because  I  saw  signs  of  it  at  Harley.  Don't 
you  remember  how  I  carried  you  off  to  the  woods 
while  he  fetched  your  umbrella?" 

I  laughed. 

"Well,  did  he  make  love  to  you?" 

"  Why  should  you  think  any  man  would  make 
love  to  me?  It  is  ridiculous.  You  seem  to  for- 
get I  have  only  been  married  five  months.  Even 
in  a  well-bred  world,  where  they  have  gone  back 
to  nature,  they  don't  begin  as  soon  as  that,  do 
they?" 

"  You  are  prevaricating.  He  did  make  love  to 
you,  then?" 

"  Lady  Grenellen  had  brought  an  heiress  there 
for  him,  and  he  was  busy  with  her." 

"And  you  made  it  as  difficult  for  him  as  pos- 
sible to  do  his  duty.  How  heartless  of  you, 
Comtesse!  I  would  not  have  believed  it  of  you." 

His  voice  was  more  mocking  than  I  had  ever 
heard  it. 

"I  did  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"He  is  an  agreeable  fellow,  Berty." 

"Full  of  information." 

"Superficial." 

"Possibly." 

Then  our  eyes  met. 

"Comtesse,  we  are  not  here  to  talk  about  the 
Duke  of  Myrlshire  in  these  our  few  minute's  of 
16  241 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

grace.  The  6.42  train  will  soon  be  in."  And 
he  sat  down  again  beside  me. 

"What  shall  we  talk  about  then?"  I  asked, 
trying  to  keep  my  head.  A  maddening  sen- 
sation of  excitement  made  my  voice  sound 
strained.  "  First,  I  want  to  tell  you  how  beauti- 
ful I  find  my  room.  If  you  had  known  my 
taste,  and  had  it  done  to  please  me,  you  could 
not  have  found  anything  I  should  like  so 
much." 

"I  did  know  your  taste,  and  I  had  it  done  to 
please  you.  It  is  for  you.  No  one  else  shall  ever 
sleep  there,"  he  said,  simply,  and  looked  deep 
into  my  eyes. 

I  had  nothing  to  say. 

"  I  like  to  know  there  is  a  room  for  you  in  my 
house.  I  want  everything  in  it  to  be  exactly 
as  you  desire.  When  you  have  time  to  look,  I 
think  you  will  find  some  agreeable  books,  and 
your  old  friends  La  Rochefoucauld,  etc.  But  if 
there  is  a  thing  you  want  changed,  it  would 
give  me  pleasure  to  change  it." 

I  was  stupefied.     I  could  not  speak. 

"Over  the  mantel-piece  is  the  little  pastel  by 
La  Tour  I  told  you  I  bought  last  year." 

"Oh!  it  is  good  of  you!"  I  managed  to  say. 

"I  have  at  least  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  I  please  myself  too  if  it  gives  you  pleasure. 
I  want  you  to  feel  there  is  one  corner  in  the  world 
where  you  are  really  at  home  with  the  things 
that  are  sympathetic  to  you,  so  that  whenever 

242 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

you  will  come  over  like  this  it  will  give  you  a 
feeling  of  repose/' 

"Oh!  it  is  dear  of  you!" 

"You  said  the  other  day/'  he  continued, 
"that  I,  at  all  events,  was  never  serious,  and  I 
told  you  I  would  tell  you  that  when  you  came 
here  to  Dane  Mount.  Well,  I  tell  you  now — I  am 
serious  in  this — that  if  there  is  anything  in  the 
world  I  can  do  to  make  you  happy  I  will  do  it." 

"  It  makes  me  happy  to  know  you  understand 
— that  there  is  some  one  of  my  kin.  Oh!  I  have 
been  very  lonely  since  grandmamma  died!" 

He  looked  at  me  long,  and  we  neither  of  us 
spoke. 

"It  was  a  very  cruel  turn  of  fate  that  we  did 
not  meet  this  time  last  year,"  he  said  at  last. 

"Yes." 

"  Comtesse,  I  want  to  make  your  life  happier. 
I  want  to  introduce  you  to  several  nice  women  I 
know.  I  shall  have  a  big  party  next  month. 
Will  you  come  and  stay  again?  Then  you  will 
gradually  get  a  pleasant  society  round  you,  and 
you  need  not  trouble  about  the  Dodds  and  the 
Springers — no,  Springle  was  their  name,  wasn't 
it?" 

"Yes.  It  is  so  kind  of  you,  all  this  thought 
for  me.  Oh,  Sir  Antony,  I  have  nothing  to  say !" 
I  faltered. 

He  frowned. 

"  Do  not  call  me  Sir  Antony,  child.  It  hurts 
me.  You  must  not  forget  we  are  cousins.  You 

243 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

are  Ambrosine  to  me,  or  my  dearest  little  Com- 
tesse." 

The  clock  struck  half-past  six.  The  servants 
entered  the  room  to  take  the  tea-things  away, 
and  while  they  were  there  a  footman  brought  in 
three  telegrams,  one  for  me  and  two  for  my  host. 

Mine  was  from  Augustus,  and  ran : 

"  Hope  you  have  arrived  safely.  Hear  fog  bad  in  coun- 
try too.  Impossible  to  get  to  Liverpool  Street  yet.  Awfully 
worried  at  your  being  alone  there.  Shall  come  by  last 
train." 

Antony  handed  the  two  others  to  me.  One 
was  from  Lady  Grenellen,  the  other  from  Augus- 
tus, both  expressing  their  annoyance  and  regret. 
The  telegrams  were  all  sent  off  at  the  same 
hour  from  Piccadilly,  so  apparently  they  were 
together,  my  husband  and  his  friend. 

"It  is  comic/'  I  said,  "this  situation!  Au- 
gustus and  Lady  Grdhellen  fog-bound  in  Lon- 
don, and  you  and  I  here,  and  it  is  the  fault  of 
none  of  us/' 

"  I  like  a  fog/'  said  Antony,  with  his  old,  whim- 
sical smile,  all  trace  of  seriousness  departed. 
"A  good,  useful  thing,  a  fog.  Hope  it  won't 
lift  in  a  hurry." 

"Now  come  and  show  me  the  ancestors,"  I 
said. 

He  led  the  way  to  the  drawing-room — a  great 
room,  all  painted  white,  too,  and  in  each  faded 
green-brocade  panel  hangs  a  picture.  The  elec- 

244 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

trie  lights  are  so  arranged  that  each  was  per- 
fectly illuminated. 

They  were  all  interesting  to  me,  especially  the 
portraits  of  our  common  ancestors. 

"That  must  be  your  grandfather's  father/' 
said  Antony,  pointing  to  a  portly  gentleman, 
with  lightly  powdered  hair  and  a  blue  riding- 
coat,  painted  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
"It  was  his  eldest  son,  who  had  no  sons,  and 
left  the  place  to  his  daughter,  who  married  Sir 
Geoffrey  Thornhirst." 

"But  where  is  your  great-great-grandmother 
that  you  told  me  about,  and  rather  insinuated 
she  was  as  nice  as  my  Ambrosine  Eustasie  de 
Calincourt?" 

"  There  she  is,  in  the  place  of  honor.  She  was 
painted  by  Gainsborough,  after  she  married. 
What  do  you  think  of  her?" 

"  Oh!  she  is  lovely,"  I  said,  " and  she  has  your 
cat's  eyes." 

"She  is  your  ancestress,  too,  but  she  is  not 
like  you.  Do  you  see  the  dog  in  the  picture?" 

"Yes.  Why,  it  is  just  the  portrait  of  one  of 
your  three  knights!" 

"Have  you  never  heard  the  tradition,  then?" 

"No." 

"  As  long  as  Dane  Mount  possesses  that  breed 
of  dogs  fortune  is  to  favor  the  owner ;  but  if  they 
die  out  I  can't  tell  you  what  calamities  are  not. 
to  overtake  him.  It  has  been  going  for  hundreds 
of  years." 

245 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

'Then  Ulfus,  Belfus,  and  Bedevere  are  the 
descendants  of  that  dog  in  the  picture?" 

"Yes." 

"No  wonder  they  give  themselves  such  airs." 

"Do  you  hear  that,  boys?"  said  Antony,  turn- 
ing to  the  three,  who  had  again  followed  us. 
"My  Comtesse  says  you  give  yourselves  airs. 
Come  and  die  for  her  to  show  her  your  real  sen- 
timents." 

The  three  great  fellows  advanced  in  their  dig- 
nified way,  casting  adoring  glances  at  their 
master. 

"Now  die,  all  of  you!" 

They  sneezed  and  curled  up  their  lips,  and 
made  the  usual  grimaces  of  dogs  when  they  are 
moved  and  self-conscious,  but  they  all  three  lay 
flat  down  at  my  feet. 

"I  am  flattered,"  I  said,  "and  I  have  not  even 
a  biscuit  to  give  you." 

"We  are  not  so  sordid  as  that  at  Dane  Mount. 
We  do  not  die  for  biscuits,  but  because  we  love 
the  lady,"  said  Antony. 

I  bent  down  and  kissed  Ulfus,  who  was  nearest 
to  me. 

"Now  I  am  going  to  show  you  some  Thorn- 
hirst  pictures  and  some  older  Athelstans  that 
are  in  the  hall  and  the  dining-room,  and  a  por- 
trait of  my  mother  that  I  have  in  my  own  smok- 
ing-room." 

Antony  made  the  most  interesting  guide. 
There  was  something  amusing  and  to  the  point 

246 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

about  all  his  comments.  I  soon  knew  the  dif- 
ferent characteristics  of  each  member  of  the  fam- 
ily. One  or  two,  especially  of  the  Thornhirsts, 
are  wonderfully  like  him— the  same  level,  dark 
eyebrows  and  firm  mouths. 

"This  is  my  sanctum/'  he  said,  at  last,  open- 
ing a  door  down  a  corridor,  and  we  went  into  a 
large  room  with  a  lower  ceiling  than  the  rest  of 
the  apartments  I  had  been  into.  It  is  panelled 
with  cedar -wood  also  and  sparely  hung  with 
old  prints.  A  delicious  smell  of  burning  pine- 
logs  again  greeted  me.  The  thick,  silk  curtains 
were  drawn.  The  lamps  were  softly  shaded. 
An  old  dog  of  the  same  family  as  the  three 
knights  basked  before  the  fire.  It  was  all  cosey 
and  homelike. 

"Oh!  this  is  a  nice  room,  too!"  I  exclaimed. 

"  I  spend  a  good  deal  of  time  here.  One  grows 
to  like  one's  rooms/' 

His  mother's  portrait  hangs  over  the  fire- 
place, a  charming  face,  whose  beauty  is  not 
even  disguised  by  the  hideous  fashions  of  1870, 
when  it  was  painted. 

"  She  died  when  I  was  in  Russia/'  said  Antony. 

My  eyes  fell  on  the  mantel-piece.  The  narrow 
ledge  held  three  photographs,  one  of  a  man,  one 
of  Lady  Tilchester,  and  the  centre  one — an  ama- 
teur production,  evidently — of  a  little  girl  with 
bare  feet,  putting  one  fat  toe  into  a  stream, 
her  hat  hanging  down  her  back,  and  her  face 
bent  down  looking  at  the  water. 

247 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"What  a  dear  little  picture/'  I  said.  "Who 
is  that?" 

"Oh,  that  is  the  Tilchester  child,  Muriel  Har- 
ley,"  he  said,  carelessly.  "We  snap-shotted 
her  paddling  in  the  burn  in  Scotland  £  year  or 
two  ago.  Come,  it  is  dressing-time.  I  must  send 
you  up-stairs."  And  then,  as  we  left  the  room, 
"You  look  so  comfortable  in  that  tea -gown! 
Don't  bother  to  change/'  he  said. 

"Why  deprive  me  of  displaying  to  you  the 
splendors  I  brought  over  on  purpose?"  I  said, 
gayly,  as  I  ran  up  the  broad  steps. 


XIV 

I  DO  not  think  there  can  be  a  more  agreeable 
form  of  entertainment  than  a  tete-h-tete  dinner, 
provided  your  companion  is  sympathetic.  Any- 
way, to  me  this  will  always  be  one  of  the  gold- 
en hours  in  my  life  to  look  back  upon. 

Never  had  Antony  been  so  attractive.  Every 
sentence  was  well  expressed,  and  only  when  one 
came  to  think  of  them  afterwards,  did  one  dis- 
cover their  subtle  flattery. 

By  the  time  the  servants  had  finally  left  the 
room  I  felt  like  a  purring  cat  whose  fur  has 
been  all  stroked  the  right  way — at  peace  with 
the  world. 

The  dinner  had  been  exquisite,  but  I  was 
too  excited  to  feel  hungry. 

"Comtesse,"  said  Antony,  looking  at  the 
clock,  "  there  is  one  good  hour  before  the  ar- 
rivals by  the  last  train  can  possibly  get  here. 
Shall  we  spend  it  in  the  library  or  the  drawing- 
room?"  He  did  not  suggest  his  own  sitting- 
room. 

"The  library.    It  is  more  cosey." 

As  he  held  the  door  open  for  me,  there  was 
an  expression  in  his  face  which  again  caused 

249 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

me  the  ridiculous  sensation  I  have  spoken  of 
so  often.  I  suddenly  realized  that  life  at  some 
moments  is  worth  living.  Perhaps  grand- 
mamma and  the  Marquis  were  right  after  all, 
and  these  glimpses  of  paradise  are  the  com- 
pensations. 

"Will  you  play  to  me,  Comtesse?"  Antony 
said  when  we  got  to  the  library  and  he  opened 
the  piano.  "  I  shall  be  selfish  and  sit  in  a  com- 
fortable chair  and  listen  to  you." 

I  am  not  a  great  musician,  but  grandmamma 
always  said  my  playing  gave  her  pleasure. 
The  music  makes  me  feel — so,  perhaps,  that  is 
why  it  makes  others  feel,  too. 

I  played  on,  it  seemed  to  me,  a  long  time.  Then, 
after  some  tender  bits  of  Greig,  running  from 
one  to  another,  I  suddenly  stopped.  The  music 
had  been  talking  too  much  to  me.  It  said,  over 
and  over  again:  "Ambrosine,  you  love  this 
man.  He  is  beginning  to  absorb  the  whole  of 
your  life."  And,  again:  "Life  is  short.  This 
happiness  will  be  over  in  a  few  moments.  Live 
while  you  may." 

"Why  do  you  stop,  Comtesse?"  asked  An- 
tony, in  a  moved  voice. 

"I— do  not  know." 

He  rose  and  came  and  leaned  on  the  piano. 
I  felt — oh!  I  had  never  been  so  agitated  in  my 
life.  At  all  costs  he  must  not  say  anything  to 
me,  nothing  that  I  should  have  to  stop,  noth- 
ing to  break  this  beautiful  dream — 

250 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"  Oh !  do  you  not  hear  the  sound  of  carriage- 
wheels?"  I  exclaimed,  in  a  half  voice. 

It  broke  the  spell. 

Antony  walked  to  the  window.  He  pulled  the 
curtains  aside  and  opened  a  shutter  to  look 
upon  the  night. 

"It  is  the  thickest  fog  I  ever  remember/'  he 
said.  "I  doubt  if  the  brougham,  which  put  up 
at  the  station,  could  get  back  here,  even  if  they 
have  come  by  the  last  train/' 

"Oh!  of  course  they  have  come!"  I  said,  un- 
steadily. 

He  did  not  answer,  but  carefully  closed  the 
shutter  again  and  drew  the  curtains.  I  went 
to  the  fireplace  and  began  caressing  one  of  the 
dogs.  My  hands  were  cold  as  ice.  Antony  lost 
a  little  of  his  sang-froid.  He  picked  up  a  paper- 
knife  and  put  it  down  again. 

It  seemed  to  me  my  heart  was  thumping  so 
loudly  that  he  must  hear  it  where  he  stood. 

We  both  listened  intently.  Neither  of  us 
spoke.  Eleven  o'clock  struck.  The  butler  en- 
tered the  room. 

"Bils worth  has  managed  to  get  here  on  one 
of  the  horses,  Sir  Antony,  and  he  says  the  last 
train  is  in,  and  no  one  arrived  by  it/' 

"Very  well/'  said  Antony,  calmly.  "You 
can  shut  up  for  the  night." 

And  the  butler  went  out,  softly  closing  the 
door  behind  him. 


XV 

BEFORE  I  opened  my  eyes  next  morning  in 
my  beautiful  room  a  telegram  came  from  Au- 
gustus— a  long  telegram  written  the  night  be- 
fore, telling  me  that  it  was  impossible  to  pene- 
trate the  fog  that  night,  and  I  was  to  come  up 
and  join  him  at  once  in  London,  as  he  had  just 
decided  to  go  to  the  war  with  his  Yeomanry. 
He  could  not  keep  out  of  it  longer,  as  all  his 
brother  officers  had  volunteered,  so  he  had  felt 
obliged  to  do  so,  too.  They  were  to  start  in 
less  than  three  weeks. 

"I  shall  go  by  the  ten-o'clock  train,"  I  told 
McGreggor,  as  I  scribbled  my  reply.  "I  must 
get  up  at  once.  Ask  for  my  breakfast  to  be 
brought  up  here." 

I  was  dressed  by  nine  o'clock  and  sipping 
my  chocolate. 

The  daintiness  of  the  old  Dresden  china 
equipage  pleased  me,  forced  itself  upon  my 
notice  in  spite  of  the  deep  preoccupation  of  my 
mind. 

An  exquisite  bunch  of  fresh  roses  lay  on  the 
tray,  and  a  note  from  Antony — only  a  few  words 
— hoping  I  had  slept  well  and  saying  the  brough- 

252 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

am  would  be  ready  for  me  at  half -past  nine,  and 
that  he  also  was  going  to  London. 

McGreggor  had  left  the  room.  Oh!  am  I  very 
wicked?  I  kissed  the  writing  before  I  threw  the 
paper  in  the  fire ! 

And  so  Augustus  is  going  to  the  war,  after 
all.  It  must  have  been  some  very  strong  in- 
fluence which  persuaded  him  to  volunteer,  he 
who  hated  the  very  thought. 

I  felt  bitterly  annoyed  with  myself  that  this 
news  did  not  cause  me  any  grief.  I  have  been 
this  man's  wife  for  five  months,  and  his  go- 
ing into  danger  in  a  far  country  leaves  me  cold. 
But  I  did,  indeed,  grieve  for  his  mother.  Her 
many  good  qualities  came  back  to  me.  This 
will  be  a  terrible  blow  to  her. 

I  looked  up  at  the  little  pastel  by  La  Tour. 
The  sprightly  French  Marquise  smiled  back  at 
me. 

"Good-bye,"  I  said.  "You,  pretty  Marquise, 
would  call  me  a  fool  because  to-day  Antony  is 
not  my  lover.  But  I — oh,  I  am  glad!" 

He  did  not  even  kiss  my  finger-tips  last  night. 
We  parted  sadly  after  a  storm  of  words  neither 
he  nor  I  had  ever  meant  to  speak. 

"II  s'en  faut  bien  que  nous  connaissions  tout 
ce  que  nos  passions  nous  font  faire!" 

Once  more  La  Rochefoucauld  has  spoken 
truth. 

Why  the  situation  is  as  it  is  I  cannot  tell.  In 
my  bringing  up,  the  idea  of  taking  a  lover  after 

253 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

marriage  seemed  a  more  or  less  natural  thing, 
and  not  altogether  a  deadly  sin,  provided  the 
affair  was  conducted  sans  fanfaronnade,  without 
scandal.  It  was  not  that  grandmamma  and  the 
Marquis  actually  discussed  such  matters  in  my 
hearing,  but  the  general  tone  of  their  conversa- 
tion gave  that  impression. 

Marriage,  as  the  Marquis  said  to  me,  was  not 
a  pleasure — it  is  a  means  to  an  end,  a  tax  of 
society.  The  agrements  of  life  came  afterwards. 
I  had  always  understood  he  had  been  grand- 
mamma's lover. 

Once  I  heard  him  express  this  sentiment  when 
I  was  supposed  to  be  reading  my  book:  The 
marriage  vows,  he  said,  were  the  only  ones  a 
gentleman  might  break  without  great  blemish 
to  his  honor.  This  was  the  atmosphere  I  had  al- 
ways lived  in,  and  since  my  wedding  the  people 
of  my  own  class  that  I  have  met  do  not  seem  to 
hold  different  views.  Lord  Tilchester  is  Baby- 
kins's  lover.  The  Duke  has  passed  on  from 
several  women,  and,  to  come  nearer  home,  there 
are  my  husband  and  Lady  Grenellen.  Only 
Lady  Tilchester  seems  noble  and  above  all  these 
earthly  things. 

Why  did  I  hesitate?  I  do  not  know.  There 
is  a  something  in  my  spirit  which  cried  out 
against  the  meanness  of  it,  the  degradation,  the 
sacrilege.  I  could  not  break  my  word  to  Augus- 
tus. Oh!  I  could  not  stoop  to  desecrate  myself, 
and  to  act  for  all  the  future — hours  of  deceit. 

254 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

And  now  after  to-day  I  will  never  see  Antony 
alone  again.  That  we  shall  casually  meet  I 
cannot  guard  against.  But  never  again  shall 
I  stay  in  his  house.  Never  again  awake  in  this 
beautiful  room.  Never  again — 

"The  brougham  is  at  the  door,  ma'am/'  said 
McGreggor,  interrupting  my  thoughts,  and  I 
descended  the  stairs.  The  fog  was  still  gray 
and  raw,  but  had  considerably  lifted. 

In  the  uncompromising  daylight  Antony's  face 
looked  haggard  and  drawn. 

"Comtesse,"  he  said,  as  we  drove  along,  "I 
cannot  forgive  myself  for  causing  you  pain  last 
night.  Nothing  was  further  from  my  thoughts 
than  to  harass  and  disturb  you — here,  in  my 
own  house  —  that  I  wanted  you  to  look  upon 
as  your  haven  of  rest.  But  I  am  not  made  of 
stone.  The  situation  was  exceptional  —  and  I 
love  you." 

In  spite  of  our  imminent  parting,  joy  rushed 
through  me  at  his  words.  Oh!  could  I  ever  get 
tired  of  hearing  Antony  say  "I 'love  you"? 

"You  did  not  cause  me  pain/'  I  said.  "We 
had  drifted,  neither  knowing  where.  It  was 
fate." 

"  Darling,  do  you  remember  our  talk  in  your 
sitting-room,  and  of  the  coup  de  foudre?  Well, 
it  has  struck  us  both.  Oh!  I  could  curse  my- 
self! Your  dear  little  white  face  looks  up  at 
me  pathetically  without  a  reproach,  and  I  have 
been  a  selfish  brute  to  even  tell  you  I  love  you. 

255 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  meant  to  be  your  friend  and  comrade  that  you 
might  feel  you  had  at  least  some  one  that  would 
stand  by  you  forever.  I  wanted  to  make  your 
life  pleasanter,  and  now  my  mad  folly  has  spoiled 
it  all,  and  you  decree  that  we  must  part.  Oh! 
my  little  Comtesse,  my  loving  you  has  only 
been  to  hurt  you!" 

"  Oh  no.  It  makes  me  glad  to  know  it — only 
— only  I  cannot  see  you  any  more/' 

"I- would  promise  never  to  say  another  word 
that  could  disturb  you.  Oh!  Why  must  we  say 
good-bye?" 

"  Because  I  could  not  promise  not  to  wish  you 
to  say  things.  You  must  surely  know  if  we 
went  on  meeting  it  could  only  have  one  end." 

"  Well,  I  will  do  as  you  wish,  my  darling  white 
rose.  In  my  eyes  you  are  above  the  angels." 

Antony's  voice  when  it  is  moved  could  wile 
a  bird  from  off  a  tree. 

Then  I  told  him  of  my  telegram,  and  I  know 
he,  too,  felt  glad  that  last  night  we  had  parted 
as  we  had. 

"Ambrosine,  listen  to  me,"  he  said.  "I  will 
not  try  to  see  you,  but  if  you  want  anything  in 
the  world  done  for  you,  promise  to  let  me  do  it." 

I  promised. 

"  There  is  just  one  thing  I  want  to  know,"  I 
said.  "  That  day  before  my  wedding,  when  you 
sent  me  the  knife  and  the  note  saying  it  was  not 
too  late  to  cut  the  Gordian  knot,  what  did  you 
mean?  Did  you  care  for  me,  then?" 

256 


THE  REFLECTIONS    OFAMBROSINE 

"I  do  not  know  exactly  what  I  meant.  I 
was  greatly  attracted  by  you.  That  day  we 
came  over  I  very  nearly  said  to  you  then, '  Come 
along  away  with  me/  and  then  we  never  met 
again  until  your  wedding.  When  I  sent  the 
knife  I  half  wondered  what  you  would  say.  I 
wrote  the  note  half  in  joke,  half  in  earnest.  My 
principal  feeling  was  that  I  could  not  bear  you 
to  marry  Augustus.  If  we  had  chanced  to  meet 
then,  really,  I  should  have  taken  you  off  to 
Gretna  Green/' 

"Alas!"  I  said. 

The  footman  opened  the  door.  We  had  ar- 
rived at  the  station. 

We  did  not  travel  in  the  same  carriage  go- 
ing to  London.  We  had  agreed  it  would  be 
better  not.  And  I  do  not  think  any  one,  see- 
ing Antony  calmly  handing  me  into  the  hired 
brougham  Augustus  had  sent  to  me,  would  have 
guessed  that  we  were  parting  forever,  and  that, 
to  me  at  least,  all  joy  in  the  world  had  fled. 

It  is  stupid  to  go  on  talking  about  one's  feel- 
ings. Having  cut  off  one's  hand,  I  am  sure 
grandmamma  would  say  it  would  be  drivel- 
ling and  mawkish  to  meditate  over  each  drop 
of  blood. 

I  tried  hard  to  think  of  other  things.  I  counted 
the  stupid  pattern  on  the  braid  that  ornament- 
ed the  inside  of  the  brougham.  I  counted  the 
lamp -posts,  with  their  murky  lights,  showing 
through  the  fog.  I  looked  at  McGreggor  sit- 
'?  257 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

ting  stolidly  opposite  me.  Could  any  emotions 
happen  to  that  wooden  mask?  "Have  you  a 
lover  that  you  have  said  good-bye  to  forever, 
I  wonder?  And  is  that  why  your  face  is  carved 
out  of  stone ?"  I  said  to  myself. 

In  spite  of  all  grandmamma's  stoical  bring- 
ing-up,  it  was  physical  pain  I  was  suffering. 

In  Queen  Victoria  Street  a  hansom  passed 
us  and  I  caught  a  misty  glimpse  of  Antony. 
He  smiled  mechanically  as  he  raised  his  hat. 

And  so  this  is  the  end. 

The  fog  is  falling  thickly  again.  Everything 
is  damp  and  cold  and  black  as  night. 

And  I—    Oh!    I  wish— 

"Hallo,  little  woman!  Glad  to  see  you!"  said 
Augustus,  in  a  thick  and  tipsy  voice,  as  I  got 
out  of  the  carriage.  And  he  kissed  me  in  front 
of  all  the  people  at  the  hotel  door. 


BOOK  III 


THE  ship  sailed  a  week  ago  and  Augustus  has 
gone  to  the  war.  Oh,  I  hate  to  look  back  and 
think  of  those  dreadful  three  weeks  before  he 
started! 

A  nightmare  of  hideous  scenes.  Alternate 
drunkenness  and  inordinate  affection  for  me, 
or  sullen  silence  and  cringing  fear.  Oh,  of  all 
the  frightful  moments  there  are  in  life,  there 
can  be  none  so  dark  as  those  that  some  women 
have  to  suffer  from  the  drunken  passions  and 
ways  of  men ! 

Augustus  would  have  deserted  at  the  last 
moment  if  an  opportunity  had  offered.  His 
mother  made  matters  worse,  as,  instead  of  re- 
membering her  country  as  so  many  mothers 
have,  and  sending  her  son  on  his  way  with 
brave  and  glorious  words,  she  wept  and  la- 
mented from  morning  till  night. 

"I  told  you  so,  Gussie,"  she  said,  when  she 
first  met  us  in  London.  "  I  was  always  against 
your  joining  that  Yeomanry.  I  told  you  it  wasn't 
only  the  uniform,  and  it  might  get  you  into 
trouble  some  day.  Oh,  to  think  that  an  extra 
glass  of  champagne  could  have  made  you  vol- 

261 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

unteer.  And  now  you've  got  to  go  to  the  war 
and  you  have  broken  my  heart." 

Augustus's  own  terror  was  pitiable  to  see  if 
it  had  not  roused  all  my  contempt. 

Oh,  that  I  should  bear  the  name  of  a  craven! 

Lady  Grenellen  was  also  in  London.  When 
he  was  sober  enough  and  not  engaged  with 
his  military  duties,  Augustus  went  to  see  her, 
and  if  she  happened  to  be  unkind  to  him  he 
vented  his  annoyance  upon  me  on  his  return. 

Had  it  not  been  that  he  was  going  to  the  war 
I  could  not,  for  my  own  self-respect,  have  put  up 
with  the  position  any  longer.  But  that  thought, 
and  the  sight  of  his  weeping  mother,  made  me 
bear  all  things  in  silence.  I  could  not  add  to 
her  griefs. 

She  quite  broke  down  one  day. 

"  I  always  knew  Gussie  took  too  much.  It  be- 
gan at  Cambridge,  long  ago/'  she  wept.  "But 
after  he  first  saw  you  and  fell  in  love,  he  gave 
it  up,  I  hoped,  and  now  it  has  broken  out  again. 
I  thought  marrying  you  would  have  cured  him. 
Oh,  deary  me!  I  feared  some  one  would  tell 
your  grandma,  and  she  would  break  off  the 
match.  I  was  glad  when  your  wedding  was 
over."  And  she  sobbed  and  rocked  herself  to 
and  fro.  "I'm  grateful  to  you,  my  dear,  for 
what  you  have  done  for  him.  It's  been  ugly  for 
you  lately.  But  there — there,  he's  going  to  the 
war  and  I  shall  never  see  him  again!" 

"  Do  not  take  that  gloomy  view.  The  war  is 
262 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

nearly  over.  There  is  no  danger  now/'  I  said, 
to  comfort  her.  "Augustus  will  only  have  rid- 
ing about  and  a  healthy  out-door  life,  and  it  will 
probably  cure  him." 

"I've  lived  in  fear  ever  since  the  war  began, 
and  now  it's  come,"  she  wailed,  refusing  to  be 
comforted. 

I  said  everything  else  I  could,  and  eventu- 
ally she  cheered  up  for  a  few  days  after  this, 
but  at  the  end  broke  down  again,  and  now, 
Amelia  writes,  lies  prostrate  in  a  darkened  room. 
Amelia  is  having  her  time  of  trial.  They  left 
for  Bournemouth  yesterday. 

Am  I  a  cold  and  heartless  woman  because 
now  that  Augustus  has  gone  I  can  only  feel 
relief? 

One  of  his  last  speeches  was  not  calculated  to 
leave  an  agreeable  impression. 

"You'd  better  look  out  how  you  behave  while 
I  am  away,"  he  said.  "I'd  kick  up  a  row  in  a 
minute,  only  you're  such  a  lump  of  ice  no  man 
would  bother  with  you."  Then,  in  a  passion: 
"  I  wish  to  God  they  would,  and  take  you  off,  so 
I  could  get  some  one  of  more  use  to  me!"  He 
was  surprised  that  I  did  not  wish  him  to  kiss 
me  ten  minutes  after  this. 

And  now  he  has  gone,  and  for  six  months,  at 
any  rate,  I  shall  be  free  from  his  companionship. 

When  he  returns  things  shall  be  started  on  a 
different  footing. 

I  came  down  to  Ledstone  by  myself  yesterday. 
263 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  have  no  plans.  Perhaps  I  shall  stay  here  until 
Christmas,  when  I  am  to  go  to  Bournemouth 
to  my  mother-in-law. 

The  house  seems  more  than  ever  big  and 
hideously  oppressive.  I  must  find  some  inter- 
est. The  old  numbness  has  returned  with  double 
force.  I  take  up  a  book  and  put  it  down  again. 
I  roam  from  one  room  to  another.  I  am  restless 
and  rebellious — rebellious  with  fate. 

I  know  grandmamma  would  be  angry  with 
me  could  she  come  back  to  me  now.  She  would 
say  I  was  behaving  with  the  want  of  self-control 
of  a  common  person,  and  not  as  one  of  our  race. 
Well,  perhaps  she  is  right.  I  shall  go  to  the 
cottage  and  see  Hephzibah  and  give  myself  a 
shock.  That  may  do  me  good. 

I  never  willingly  let  myself  think  of  Antony, 
but  unconsciously  my  thoughts  are  always 
turning  back  to  the  evening  in  the  fog.  I  do 
not  know  where  he  is.  He  may  be  at  Dane 
Mount,  only  these  few  miles  off,  and  yet  we  must 
not  meet. 

I  wonder  if  Ambrosine  Eustasie  de  Calincourt 
had  ever  a  Iover0  Probably — and  she  would  have 
listened  to  him,  being  of  her  time. 

Oh,  what  is  this  quality  in  me  that  makes  me 
as  I  am — a  flabby  thing,  with  strength  enough 
to  push  away  all  I  desire  in  life,  to  keep  untar- 
nished my  idea  of  honor,  and  yet  too  weak  to 
tear  the  matter  from  my  mind  once  I  have  done 
so? 

264 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

How  grandmamma  would  despise  me! 

I  think  of  the  Princess's  answer  to  the  riddle 
of  the  nineteenth  day  in  A  Digit  of  the  Moon. 
I  am  this  middle  thing,  and  it  is  only  the  very 
bad  and  very  good  that  achieve  peace  and  per- 
fect happiness. 

"Come,  Roy,  away  with  us!  Let  us  run,  as 
we  used  to  do  last  year  when  we  were  young. 
Let  us  shake  ourselves  and  laugh.  No  more  of 
this  unworthy  repining !  There  are  some  in  the 
world  that  have  but  one  eye,  and  some  but  one 
leg,  and  they  cannot  see  or  run,  and  are  worse 
off  than  we  are,  my  friend.  So  think  of  that, 
and  don't  lift  your  lip  at  me,  and  tell  me  it  is 
cold,  and  you  want  to  stay  by  the  fire." 

All  the  blinds  were  down  in  the  front  of  the 
cottage  as  I  unlatched  the  garden  gate — the  gate 
I  had  passed  through  last  following  grand- 
mamma's coffin  to  her  grave.  I  ran  round  to  the 
back  door  and  soon  found  Hephzibah. 

Her  joy  was  great  to  see  me  there,  her  only 
regret  being  she  had  not  known  I  was  coming 
that  she  might  have  had  the  fires  lit.  They  were 
all  laid,  and  she  soon  put  a  match  to  them. 

With  what  pride  she  showed  me  how  she  had 
kept  everything !  Then  she  left  me  alone,  stand- 
ing in  the  little  drawing-room.  It  seemed  so 
wonderfully  small  to  me  now.  The  pieces  of 
brocade  still  hid  the  magenta  "suite,"  but  ar- 
ranged with  a  prim  stiffness  they  lacked  in  our 
day.  Dear  Hephzibah!  She  ha4  been  dusting 

265 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

them,  and  would  not  fold  them  up  and  put  them 
away  in  case  that  I  should  ever  come. 

The  china  all  stood  as  it  used,  and  grand- 
mamma's chair  with  her  footstool,  and  the  lit- 
tle table  near  it  with  her  magnifying-glass  and 
spectacle-case.  There  were  her  books,  the  old 
French  classics,  and  the  modern  yellow  backs, 
her  paper-knife  still  in  one,  half-cut.  I  never 
realized  how  happy  I  had  been  here,  in  this  little 
room,  a  year  ago.  How  happy,  and,  oh,  how 
ridiculously  young!  My  work-box  stood  in  its 
usual  place,  a  bit  of  fine  embroidery  protruding 
from  its  lid. 

For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  sat  down  in 
grandmamma's  chair.  Oh,  if  something  of  her 
spirit  could  descend  upon  me!  I  tried  to  think  of 
her  maxims,  her  wonderful  courage,  her  cheer- 
fulness in  all  adversities,  her  wit,  her  gayety. 
I  seemed  a  paltry,  feeble  creature  daring  to  sit 
there,  in  her  ber$re,  and  sigh  at  fate.  No,  I 
would  grumble  no  more.  I,  too,  would  be  of  the 
race. 

How  long  I  mused  there  I  do  not  know.  The 
fire  was  burning  low. 

I  went  up  to  my  own  old  room.  I  must  see 
everything,  now  I  was  here.  It  struck  me  with 
a  freezing  chill  as  I  opened  the  door.  The  fire 
had  not  drawn  here,  and  lay  a  mass  of  smoul- 
dering sticks  and  paper  in  the  narrow  grate. 

There  was  my  little  white  bed,  cold  and  nar- 
row. The  dressing-table,  with  its  muslin  flounces 

266 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

and  cheap,  white  -  bordered  mirror.  Even  the 
china  tray  was  there,  where,  I  remember,  my 
jewels  lay  the  night  before  my  wedding,  and 
close  beside  it,  the  red-morroco  case  Antony's 
present  had  come  in — left  behind,  by  mistake, 
I  suppose,  when  the  other  gifts  were  packed 
away.  The  note  he  had  written  me  with  it  was 
still  in  its  lid. 

The  paper  felt  icy  to  touch.  I  pulled  it  out 
and  read  it  to  the  end.  Then  I  threw  it  in  the 
fire.  The  sullen,  charred  sticks  had  not  life 
enough  to  burn  it.  I  lit  a  match  and  watched 
the  bright  flames  curl  up  the  chimney  until  all 
was  destroyed.  Then  I  fled.  Here  at  least  in 
the  cottage  I  will  never  come  again.  The  room 
is  full  of  ghosts. 

On  the  whole,  however,  my  visit  did  me  good. 
I  returned  to  Ledstone  with  a  firm  determina- 
tion to  be  more  like  grandmamma. 

A  telegram  was  awaiting  me  from  Augustus, 
sent  from  his  first  stopping  -  place.  He  had 
caught  the  measles,  it  appeared.  The  measles! 
I  thought  only  children  got  the  measles. 

Poor  Augustus!  He  would  make  a  bad  pa- 
tient. I  was  truly  sorry,  and  sent  the  most  af- 
fectionate and  sympathetic  answer  I  could  think 
of  to  meet  him  at  St.  Helena. 

I  wrote  to  the  war  office,  asking  them  please 
to  send  me  any  further  news  when  they  received 
it.  But  the  measles !  It  almost  made  me  laugh. 


II 


NEXT  day  Lady  Tilchester  wrote  and  asked 
me  to  go  to  Harley.  She  had  heard  I  was  alone, 
and  would  be  so  delighted  to  have  me  for  a  week, 
she  said. 

I  started  two  days  afterwards.  To  see  her 
would  give  me  pleasure. 

"  How  very  white  and  thin  you  are  looking, 
dear!"  she  said,  as  we  sat  together  in  her  sit- 
ting-room the  first  afternoon  I  arrived.  "You 
are  not  the  same  person  as  the  very  young  girl 
who  danced  at  the  Yeomanry  ball  in  May.  How 
old  are  you,  Ambrosine?" 

"I  was  twenty  in  October/' 

"Twenty  years  old!  Only  twenty  years 
old,  and  with  that  sad  face!  Nothing  in  life 
ought  to  make  one  sad  at  twenty.  You 
look  like  a  piteous  child.  I  could  imagine 
Muriel,  with  a  dead  bird,  or  a  set  of  kittens 
to  be  drowned,  looking  as  pathetic  as  you 
do." 

"I  know.  I  am  ashamed  of  myself,"  I  said. 
"Grandmamma  would  be  so  angry  with  me  if 
she  were  here." 

"Well,  now  we  are  going  to  cheer  you  up. 
268 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

The  Duke  is  coming  on  Saturday.  He  is  not 
married  yet,  you  see." 

"Oh,  tell  me  how  the  affair  went/'  I  said, 
smiling.  "It — it's — a  month  ago  we  were  at 
Myrlton." 

"The  silly  girl  preferred  Luffy,  but  for  the 
last  weeks  they  both  were  hanging  on.  Miss 
Trumpet  and  her  aunt  were  staying  at  Clar- 
idge's,  and  they  tell  me  it  was  too  ridiculous! 
Luffy  lunched  with  them  every  day,  and  Berty 
dined  in  the  evening." 

"You  did  not  tell  her  about  the  Coronation, 
then?" 

"  Yes,  I  did  !  But  just  for  once  in  a  way  she 
had  fallen  in  love — Luffy  is  beautiful,  you  know! 
— and,  my  dear  child,  any  girl  or  woman  in  love 
is  the  most  unreasonable,  absurd  creature  on 
the  face  of  the  earth." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  But  the  Americans  don't  get 
in  love  like  other  nations.  She  assured  me 
they  knew  how  to  keep  men  in  their  places  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic." 

"But  the  'place'  of  a  man  is  doing  exactly 
what  the  particular  woman  in  the  case  wants 
him  to  do,  don't  forget  that!  And  Miss  Trum- 
pet finally  decided,  last  week,  that  she  wanted 
him  to  be  her  husband." 

"Poor  Duke!"  I  said. 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  Berty  minds  very  much. 
Anyway,  you  will  be  able  to  console  hirrr." 

"  You  have  quite  a  mistaken  idea  there.  He 
269 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

likes  to  talk  about  himself,  and  explain  to  me 
his  views  on  morals  as  manners,  but  he  is  not 
the  least  interested  in  me.  I  am  a  very  good 
listener,  you  know.  Grandmamma  never  let  me 
interrupt  people/' 

"Poor  old  Berty!"  she  said.  "He  has  the 
best  heart  underneath  all  his  silly  mannerisms. 
I  have  known  him  since  he  was  a  child.  He  is 
much  older  than  he  looks,  almost  my  age,  in 
fact." 

"  How  has  Lady  Grenellen  taken  the  engage- 
ment?" I  asked. 

"Cordelia?  Oh,  she  is  simply  furious.  It  is 
the  first  time  any  other  woman  has  ever  had 
a  chance  with  her.  An  English  girl  would 
have  a  rather  blank  prospect  in  front  of  her 
for  the  afterwards.  But  these  Americans  are 
so  wonderfully  clever  and  sensible,  probably 
Luffy  will  remain  Miss  Trumpet's  devoted  slave 
for  years." 

Lord  Tilchester  entered  the  room,  and  said 
"  How  d'y  do,"  to  me.  He  is  a  gruff,  unattrac- 
tive person.  I  do  not  know  what  Babykins 
sees  in  him. 

He  spent  his  time  eating  tea-cake  and  feed- 
ing the  dogs,  with  a  casual  remark  here  and 
there.  At  last  he  left.  I  was  glad.  Lady 
Tilchester's  manner  to  him  is  always  gracious 
and  complacent.  She  attends  to  his  wishes, 
and  talks  to  him  without  yawning.  She  must 
be  my  model  for  my  future  treating  of  Augus- 

270 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

tus.  This  is  the  most  perfect  and  beautiful 
lady  in  the  world,  I  think. 

There  were  only  a  couple  of  men  staying  in 
the  house  besides  myself  until  the  Saturday, 
when  a  crowd  of  people  came.  In  these  few 
days  I  got  to  know  Margaret  Tilchester  more 
intimately.  Her  beautiful  nature  would  stand 
any  test.  All  her  real  and  intense  interests 
are  concentrated  upon  her  schemes  to  benefit 
mankind,  practical,  sensible  schemes,  with  no 
sentiment  about  them.  I  wish  I  could  see  her 
children.  The  boy  is,  of  course,  at  Eton,  and  the 
little  girl  is  again  away,  visiting  her  grand- 
mother. There  are  dozens  of  photographs  of 
them  about,  and  the  girl  keeps  reminding  me 
of  some  one,  I  cannot  fix  who.  She  looks  a 
dear  little  creature.  Oh,  I  should  love  a  baby! 
But  still  I  shall  always  pray  I  may  never  have 
a  child. 

The  Duke  arrived  with  the  other  guests  on 
Saturday.  He  looked  just  the  same.  His  re- 
verse of  fortune  had  not  altered  his  appearance. 
He  seemed  extremely  glad  to  see  me. 

"  You  have  heard  how  the  affair  went/'  he  said 
to  me  the  first  night  after  dinner.  "  After  keep- 
ing me  in  the  most  ridiculous  position,  dangling 
for  weeks,  she  preferred  Luffy." 

"Yes,  I  heard." 

"My  only  satisfaction  out  of  the  whole  thing 
is  that,  for  once,  Cordelia  is  paid  out  in  her  own 
coin.  As  a  rule,  she  only  cares  jto  take  away 

271 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

some  one  who  belongs  to  some  other  woman, 
and  now  this  little  girl  has  turned  the  tables." 

"How  spiteful  of  you,  when  Lady  Grenellen 
was  trying  to  arrange  for  your  future  happi- 
ness!" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind.  You  don't  know  Cor- 
delia. She  is  only  afraid  I  shall  shut  up  Myrl- 
ton,  or  let  it,  and  she  amuses  herself  a  good  deal 
there.  She  thought  if  I  had  a  rich  wife  her  op- 
portunities would  of tener  occur.  I  can  only  keep 
it  open  in  the  autumn  now/' 

"Oh,  you  are  a  wonderful  company!"  I  laugh- 
ed. 

"I  wish  you  were  a  widow.  You  would  suit 
me  in  every  way." 

"Hush!"  I  said,  frowning.  "I  do  not  like  you 
to  speak  so,  even  in  jest." 

"But  I  always  told  you  I  loved  you,"  he  said, 
resignedly. 

"  Nonsense.  What  is  this  ridiculous  love  you 
all  speak  about?  A  silly  passion  that  only 
wants  what  it  cannot  have,  or,  if  it  succeeds, 
immediately  translates  itself  to  some  one  else. 
You  told  me  so  yourself.  You  said  at  least  you 
were  not  wearyingly  faithful — you,  as  a  class." 

"How  you  confute  one  with  argument,  lovely 
lady!  I  shall  call  you  Portia.  But  what  an 
adorable  Portia!" 

"  Now,  stop,"  I  said,  severely.  "  I  would  rather 
hear  your  views  on  morality  and  religion  than 
the  rubbish  you  are  now  talking." 

272 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"  I  have  never  been  more  snubbed  in  my  life. 
Even  Miss  Corrisande  K.  Trumpet  did  not  flat- 
ten me  out  as  you  do/'  he  said,  with  feigned 
resentment. 

"You  told  me  in  the  beginning  I  looked  un- 
like the  Englishwomen.  Well,  I  am  unlike  them. 
I  am  a  person  of  bad  nature.  I  refuse  to  be 
bored." 

"And  I  bore  you?" 

"Only  when  you  talk  silly  sentiment." 

"Then  it  is  a  bargain.  If  I  don't  bore  you, 
you  will  be  friends  with  me?" 

"And  if  you  do — bon  soir,  monsieur/'  and  I 
rose,  laughing,  and  joined  my  hostess. 

The  party  this  time  was  much  nicer  than  the 
former  one  I  came  to.  It  was  composed  of 
clever,  interesting  people.  The  conversation  was 
often  brilliant  and  elevating.  No  one  talked 
like  Babykins  or  Lady  Grenellen.  In  fact,  it 
appeared  another  society  altogether.  It  seemed 
impossible  among  these  people  to  realize  that 
perhaps,  in  reality,  they  are  like  the  rest.  There 
was  not  a  word  or  a  look  which  would  suggest 
that  they  held  any  but  the  highest  views. 

Lady  Tilchester  shone  among  them.  She 
seemed  to  be  in  a  suitable  setting.  They  were 
mostly  of  very  high  rank,  and  the  rest  politicians 
and  diplomats.  They  did  not  clip  their  sen- 
tences and  use  pet  words,  and  they  did  not  smoke 
cigarettes  all  the  time. 

The  women,  although  not  i^early  so  well 
.8  273 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

dressed  or  attractive  to  look  at,  were  much  more 
agreeable  to  one  another,  and  one  was  a  perfectly 
wonderful  musician.  Her  playing  delighted  us 
all.  She  played  the  things  of  Greig  that  I  play- 
ed to  Antony  on  the  evening  at  Dane  Mount.  I 
sat  by  myself  and  listened.  I  seemed  to  see  his 
face  and  hear  his  voice,  but  the  good  resolutions 
I  had  made  while  sitting  in  grandmamma's  chair 
helped  me  to  put  these  thoughts  away. 

I  felt  more  at  rest,  at  peace,  here.  Every  one's 
life  seemed  full  of  interest  —  interest  in  some- 
thing great.  I  would  like  this  society  best  if  I 
had  to  choose  which  I  would  frequent,  but  I  can 
realize  that  people  as  good  as  these,  but  duller 
and  less  brilliant,  would  make  one  look  at  the 
clock. 

Perhaps  Lady  Tilchester's  plan  of  having  ev- 
ery sort  at  her  house  is  the  best,  after  all.  Then 
she  can  have  variety  and  never  be  bored. 

I  wonder  if  it  is  the  occupation  of  their  minds 
with  great  things,  in  this  set,  which  balances 
with  the  "lives  of  compulsion"  led  by  the  middle 
classes,  and  so  prevents  them  also  from  "  getting 
back  to  nature/'  as  the  Duke  said. 

It  is  an  interesting  problem. 

Mr.  Budge  sat  down  and  talked  to  me.  He 
has  a  very  strong  character,  I  am  sure,  and  I 
was  nattered  that  he  should  think  me  worth 
speaking  to. 

"I  admire  your  perfect  stillness/'  he  said  at 
last,  after  there  had  been  a  pause  of  a  moment  or 

274 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

two.     "I  have  never  seen  a  woman  sit  so  still. 
It  is  a  great  quality." 

"I  was  not  allowed  to  fidget  when  I  was 
young/'  I  said.  "Perhaps  one  acquires  repose 
as  a  habit/' 

"When  you  were  young!  Why,  you  look 
only  a  baby  now !  I  would  take  you  for  about 
eighteen  years  old,  and  that  is  what  interests 
me.  Your  eyes  have  a  question  and  a  story  in 
them  that  is  not  usual  at  eighteen." 

"Oh,  I  am  ever  so  much  older  than  that!  I 
must  be  at  least  fifty!"  I  said. 

He  smiled.     " I  am  fifty.     It  is  a  terrible  age." 

"I  dare  say  it  would  be  nice  to  be  fifty  if  one 
had  been  long  enough  young — to  get  there  grad- 
ually. But  to  jump  there,  that  is  what  is  not 
amusing." 

"And  you  have  jumped  to  fifty?  I  thought 
there  was  a  story  in  those  Sphinx  eyes." 

"Why  do  you  say  that?  You  are  the  second 
person  who  has  said  I  have  the  eyes  of  the  Sphinx. 
I  would  like  to  know  why?"  I  asked. 

"Because  they  are  inscrutable.  They  sug- 
gest much  and  reveal  nothing.  It  would  in- 
terest me  deeply  to  hear  your  impression  of 
things." 

"What  things?" 

"  The  world,  the  flesh,  or  the  devil — anything 
that  would  make  you  lift  the  curtain  a  little. 
For  instance,  what  do  you  think  of  this  society 
here  now?" 

275 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

"They  all  seem  to  be  clever  people  with  in- 
terests in  life." 

"  Most  people  have  interests  in  life.  The  can- 
dle would  soon  burn  out  otherwise.  What  are 
yours,  if  I  may  ask?" 

"I  am  observing.  I  have  not  decided  yet  what 
interests  me.  I  would  like  to  travel,  I  think, 
and  see  the  world." 

"That  is  an  easy  matter  at  your  age.  But 
have  you  no  other  desires?" 

"  No,  unless  it  would  be  to  sleep  very  soundly 
and  enjoy  my  food." 

"What  a  little  cynic!  A  gross  little  mate- 
rialist! And  you  look  the  embodiment  of  ethe- 
realism." 

"At  fifty  I  have  always  understood  creature 
comforts  begin  to  matter  more.  Each  age  has 
its  pleasures." 

He  laughed. 

"Tell  me  something  else  about  the  emotions 
of  the  fifty-year-olds." 

"They  get  up  in  the  morning  and  they  won- 
der if  it  will  rain,  and,  if  they  are  in  England, 
it  often  answers  them  by  pouring.  Then  they 
breakfast,  and  wonder  if  they  will  read  or  play 
the  piano  or  walk,  or  if  it  matters  a  scrap  if  they 
do  none  of  these  things,  and  presently  they 
look  at  the  papers,  and  they  see  the  war  is  go- 
ing on  still,  and  people  are  being  killed,  and 
they  wonder  to  what  end.  And  they  read  that 
the  opposition  is  accusing  the  government  of 

276 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

all  sorts  of  crimes  and  negligences,  and  they 
remember  that  is  the  fate  of  governments,  which- 
ever side  is  in.  And  then  they  lunch,  perhaps, 
and  see  friends.  And  they  find  they  want  some 
one  else's  husband  but  their  own,  and  that  the 
husband,  perhaps,  only  cares  for  sport,  or  some 
one  else's  wife.  And  then  they  sleep  after  lunch, 
and  drive,  and  have  tea,  and  read  books  about 
philosophy,  and  dine,  and  yawn,  and  finally  go 
to  bed." 

"What  a  terrible  picture!  And  when  they 
were  young  what  did  they  do?" 

"It  is  so  long  ago  I  heard  of  that,  but  I  will 
try  to  remember.  They  woke  feeling  the  day 
was  a  glorious  thing  in  front  of  them,  that  even 
if  they  were  in  England,  and  it  was  raining, 
the  sun  would  soon  come  out.  And  they  sang 
while  they  dressed,  and,  if  it  was  summer,  they 
rushed  round  the  garden,  and  loved  all  the  flow- 
ers, and  the  scent  in  the  air,  and  the  beauty 
of  the  lights  and  colors,  and  the  dear  little  but- 
terflies. And  they  saw  the  shades  on  the  trees, 
and  they  heard  the  different  notes  in  the  birds' 
songs.  And  they  were  hungry,  and  glad  to 
eat  bread  and  milk.  And  every  goose  was  a 
swan,  and  every  moment  full  of  joy,  because 
they  said  to  themselves,  'Something  glorious 
is  coming  to  me,  also,  in  this  most  glorious 
world!'" 

I  laughed  softly.  It  seemed  so  true,  and  so 
long  ago. 

277 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Mr.  Budge  looked  at  me.  His  face  was  grave 
and  puzzled. 

"Child/'  he  said,  "it  grieves  me  to  hear  you 
talk  so.  I  assure  you,  I,  who  am  really  fifty, 
still  enjoy  all  those  things  that  you  say  only 
the  very  young  can  appreciate/' 

"We  have  changed  places,  then!"  I  answered, 
lightly.  "And  I  see  Lady  Tilchester  making 
a  move  towards  bed.  That  is  a  delightful  place, 
where  fifty  and  fifteen  can  both  enjoy  oblivion 
— so  good-night!"  And  I  smiled  at  him  over 
my  shoulder  as  I  walked  towards  the  door! 

Next  day,  after  church,  the  Duke  and  I  went 
for  a  walk.  He  kept  his  promise  and  did  not 
bore  me.  We  discussed  all  sorts  of  things,  some 
interesting,  and  all  in  the  abstract.  We  left  per- 
sonalities alone.  At  last  he  said : 

"Until  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury things  went  along  gradually.  People 
could  look  ahead  for  a  hundred  years  and  say, 
with  something  like  certainty,  what  would  be 
likely  to  take  place.  But  since  then  every- 
thing has  gone  with  such  leaps  and  bounds 
that  no  one  could  prophesy!  Though  in  five 
hundred  years  we  shall  probably  be  a  wretched 
republic,  constructed  out  of  the  debris  of  the 
old  order,  and  the  Americans  will  be  an  aristo- 
cratic nation  with  a  king." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"Because  when  companies  of  people  get  suf- 
ficiently rich  not  to  have  to  work  they  grow  to 

278 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

like  whatever  will  appeal  to  their  vanity  and 
self-importance.  There  is  a  halo  round  a  title, 
and  you  can  leave  it  to  your  children.  A  king 
becomes  a  necessity  then/' 

"An  American  king!  It  does  seem  a  strange 
idea.  Well,  we  shall  not  be  there  to  see,  so  it 
does  not  matter  to  us.  '  Sufficient  unto  the  day 
is  the  evil  thereof." 

"History  always  repeats  itself.  Look  at  the 
Romans,  a  civilized  republic,  and  then  they  must 
have  an  emperor/' 

"  And  then  the  barbarians  came  and  the  whole 
thing  was  blotted  out.  And  so  in  the  end,  a 
quoi  bon?  No  one  was  ever  benefited/' 

"But  the  world  would  not  go  on  if  we  said 
'  a  quoi  bon '  to  everything.  The  fortunate  thing 
is  that  for  the  time  we  think  things  matter  im- 
mensely. When  people  begin  to  feel  nothing 
matters  at  all,  it  is  because  their  livers  are  out 
of  order.  And  when  a  nation  becomes  apathetic, 
that  is  what  is  the  matter  too.  Look  at  Italy 
or  Spain!  Their  livers  are  completely  out  of 
order.  All  their  institutions  are  jaundiced  and 
each  country  is  going  down-hill/' 

"  Poor  Spain  and  Italy'/'  I  said,  and  I  laughed. 

"I  like  to  hear  you  laugh,  I  don't  care  what 
it  is  about,"  said  the  Duke. 

"I  believe  if  I  had  your  great  position  and 
traditions  of  family  I  should  try  to  be  a  strong 
influence  in  the  country.  I  would  try  to  make 
a  name  for  myself  in  history,"  I  said*  "I 

279 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

would  not  be  contented  with  being  just  a 
duke." 

"Ah,  if  I  had  you  always  near  me  perhaps  I 
should/'  and  he  sighed  pathetically. 

"Now,  now!  you  are  breaking  your  bargain, 
and  talking  personally,  which  will  bore  me/' 

"But  you  began  it.  I  was  quietly  discussing 
something — the  evolution  of  the  world,  I  think — 
when  you  gave  me  your  opinion  of  what  you 
would  do  in  my  case/' 

I  laughed. 

"Yes,  but  I  am  permitted  to  be  illogical,  not 
being  a  man,  and  I  am  thinking  it  might  cause 
me  an  interest  if  I  had  your  case/' 

"I  will  tell  you  what  my  grandfather,  the 
tenth  Duke,  said  to  me  when  he  was  a  very  old 
man  —  you  know  his  record,  of  course?  He 
was  one  of  the  greatest  politicians  and  littera- 
teurs of  his  time,  but  had  been  in  the  Guards 
when  a  boy,  and  at  sixteen  fought  at  Waterloo. 
'After  having  tasted  the  best  of  most  things  in 
life,  Robert/  he  said,  'I  can  tell  you  there  are 
only  two  things  really  worth  having — women 
and  fighting." 


Ill 


BEFORE  the  end  of  my  visit  to  Harley  the  Duke 
and  I  became  fast  friends,  and  while  not  pos- 
sessing Antony's  lightness  of  wit  or  personal  at- 
tractions, he  is  an  agreeable  companion  and  out 
of  the  ordinary  run  of  young  men.  He  promised 
me,  as  we  said  good-bye,  that  he  would  think  of 
my  words,  and  try  to  do  something  with  his  life 
to  deserve  my  good  opinion. 

"Come  here  whenever  you  are  lonely,  dear 
child/'  said  my  beautiful  hostess,  as  we  parted. 
"We  delight  in  having  you,  and  you  must  not 
mope  at  home  all  by  yourself/' 

The  roads  were  too  bad  for  the  automobile, 
so  I  drove  back  to  Ledstone  in  my  victoria.  It 
was  a  brilliant,  frosty  day,  the  nth  of  Decem- 
ber. Something  in  the  air  sent  my  spirits  up. 
I  felt  if  Mr.  Budge  had  only  been  with  me  I 
could  have  told  him  I  was  growing  younger. 
My  first  interest  when  I  got  home  should  be  to 
alter  my  boudoir.  Augustus  had  left  me  fairly 
provided  with  money,  and  I  could,  at  all  events, 
run  up  what  bills  I  pleased.  That  thought 
brought  me  back  to  the  last  bill  I  had  tried  to 
incur. 

281 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

What  had  been  the  result  of  my  orders  ?  Would 
the  shop-people  have  told  Lady  Grenellen  that  a 
strange  lady  had  sent  her  the  tea-gowns?  Would 
she  have  wondered  about  them  and  made  in- 
quiries? I  had  heard  nothing  further.  I  dis- 
missed the  subject  and  returned  to  my  boudoir. 
I  was  just  thinking  deeply  what  change  I  should 
make  as  we  drove  up  the  avenue.  Should  I 
take  away  the  mustard  walls  and  do  the  whole 
thing  white,  or  have  it  pale  green,  or  what? 
Then  we  caught  up  a  telegraph-boy.  He  handed 
me  the  orange  envelope. 

It  was  from  the  war  office,  and  ran: 

"  We  are  deeply  grieved  to  inform  you  intelligence  has 
been  received  that  your  husband,  Lieutenant  Augustus 
Gurrage,  of  the  Tilchester  Yoemanry,  died  of  measles  on 
board  the  troop-ship  Aurora  on  the  6th  instant." 

The  sky  suddenly  became  dark,  and  I  remem- 
ber nothing  more  until  I  found  myself  in  the  hall 
with  a  crowd  of  servants  round  me.  For  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  had  fainted.  I  shall  not 
analyze  my  feelings  at  this  time.  The  principal 
emotions  were  horror  and  shock. 

Oh,  poor  Augustus!  to  have  died  all  alone  at 
sea!  Oh,  I  did,  indeed,  grieve  for  him!  And 
the  measles,  which  I  had  almost  laughed  at! 
The  measles  to  have  killed  him!  Afterwards, 
when  we  heard  the  details,  it  appeared  his  con- 
stitution was  so  weakened  with  the  quantity  of 
alcohol  he  had  taken  in  those  last  three  weeks 

282 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

that  he  had  no  strength  to  stand  against  the  at- 
tack. 

My  one  thought  was  for  his  poor  mother.  A 
telegram  had  gone  to  her,  too,  it  appeared. 

I  left  for  Bournemouth  by  the  first  train  I 
could  catch,  but  when  I  arrived  I  was  met  by  a 
doctor.  Mrs.  Gurrage  had  lost  her  reason,  he 
told  me,  upon  hearing  the  news.  She  had  been 
weak  and  ailing  and  in  bed  ever  since  her  re- 
turn from  London,  and  this  had  proved  the  last 
straw,  and  now  she  lay,  a  childish  imbecile,  in 
her  gorgeous  bedroom  up-stairs. 

Oh,  I  can  never  write  the  horrors  poor  Amelia 
and  I  went  through  for  the  next  ten  days.  The 
sadness  of  it  all!  My  poor  mother-in-law  did 
not  recognize  me.  She  talked  incessantly  of 
Augustus.  She  seemed  quite  happy.  He  was  a 
boy  again  to  her — sometimes  an  infant,  and  at 
others  almost  grown  up. 

Once  or  twice  she  asked  Amelia  if  I  was  not 
the  new  tenant  at  the  cottage. 

"She's  a  pretty  girl/'  she  said,  "and  Gussie's 
wonderful  took  with  her/' 

Her  poor  voice  had  gone  back  to  the  sound 
and  pronunciation  of  her  early  youth.  Some- 
times her  accent  was  so  broad  and  her  expres- 
sion so  unusual  that  I  could  hardly  understand 
her. 

They  had  buried  Augustus  at  sea.  A  grand 
and  glorious  grave,  I  think. 

By  the  beginning  of  the  new  year  I  found 

283 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

myself  a  very  rich  woman.  Augustus  had  left 
me  his  fortune,  to  be  divided  with  his  mother, 
should  she  survive  him,  and  if  not,  to  go  to  me 
and  any  possible  children  we  might  have.  The 
will  had  been  made  directly  we  returned  to  Led- 
stone  after  our  wedding. 

Amelia  received  only  a  very  small  legacy. 

Towards  the  end  of  January  there  was  a  change 
in  the  poor  invalid  up-stairs.  My  presence  be- 
gan to  awake  some  memories.  She  was  un- 
happy, and  pointed  at  me.  I  disturbed  and  dis- 
tressd  her.  It  grieved  me.  I  would  so  willingly 
have  stayed  and  nursed  her,  but  the  doctors  ab- 
solutely forbade  my  ever  going  into  her  room. 

We  had  all  the  greatest  specialists  down  from 
London  to  consult  about  her  case,  but  they  all 
shook  their  heads.  It  seemed  hopeless  and  most 
unlikely  she  would  ever  recover  her  reason. 

One  great  physician  said  to  me,  with  truth : 

"For  the  poor  lady's  sake  I  could  almost 
hope  she  will  remain  in  her  present  state.  She 
is  happy  and  quite  harmless,  whereas  she  would 
suffer  agonies  of  grief  should  she  recover/' 

I  tried  to  take  this  view,  and  after  making 
every  possible  arrangement  for  her  comfort  and 
attendance  I  left  for  London.  There  was  a  great 
deal  of  business  to  be  seen  about  in  connection 
with  the  will. 

Lady  Tilchester  had  telegraphed  at  once  all 
her  sympathy,  and  I  got  numbers  of  letters  from 
all  sorts  of  people. 

284 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

Among  them  Lady  Grenellen!  A  beautiful- 
ly expressed  note,  full  of  the  friendliest  sym- 
pathy. 

When  I  got  back  to  Ledstone,  after  my  week 
in  London,  I  found  quantities  of  letters  and 
bills  had  accumulated  for  Augustus.  His  law- 
yers were  coming  down  the  next  day  to  sort  and 
settle  everything.  They  had  been  piled  up  in 
the  smoking-room. 

I  sadly  glanced  through  them  as  they  lay. 
Oh,  I  am  not  a  hypocrite  to  say  that  when  I 
first  went  back  into  this  room,  full  of  tipsy  hor- 
rors as  its  associations  were,  it  brought  Augus- 
tus back  so  vividly  that  I  sat  down  and  cried. 

I  had  never  wished  him  ill,  and  would  have 
given  him  back  his  life  if  I  could.  To  die  so 
young,  with  everything  to  make  existence  fair! 
It  seemed  too  sad. 

I  lifted  the  pile  of  papers,  one  after  another, 
and  at  last  came  upon  one  with  the  address 
printed  on  the  outside  of  the  envelope — the  ad- 
dress of  the  dress-maker  where  Lady  Grenellen's 
clothes  came  from. 

This  bill  the  lawyers  should  not  see.  I  looked 
carefully  to  the  end  of  the  pile.  There  were  no 
more  of  any  consequence.  I  wished  I  could 
find  her  letters  too,  to  save  them  also.  The 
drawers  were  all  locked.  I  could  not  think  that 
night  what  to  do,  but  when  the  lawyers  came 
next  day  I  asked  them  to  give  me  any  letters 
they  might  find  with  the  same  writing  on  the 

285 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

envelope  as  the  one  I  showed  them — her  note 
of  sympathy  to  me — and  not  to  examine  them. 

And  so  it  was  that  a  day  or  two  afterwards 
I  had  before  me  six  letters  with  a  gold  coronet 
emblazoned  upon  the  envelopes. 

I  had  paid  the  bill.  I  wrote  the  check  and 
despatched  it  the  night  I  found  it,  and  now  the 
receipt  also  lay  beside  the  letters.  I  tied  them 
together  and  sealed  the  bundle  with  Augustus's 
seal.  I  put  the  receipted  bill  with  them,  and 
enclosed  the  whole  packet  in  another  envelope, 
and  addressed  it  to  Lady  Grenellen. 

I  had  not  answered  her  letter  of  sympathy. 
This  would  be  my  answer. 

A  thick  skin  is  a  fortunate  gift,  it  appears, 
and  one  I  had  thought  of  extreme  rareness  in 
the  class  to  which  she  belongs.  What  was  my 
surprise  to  receive  a  gushing  letter  of  thanks 
by  return  of  post!  My  husband  and  she  had 
been  such  friends,  she  said,  and  he  had  helped 
her  before  so  kindly  out  of  her  difficulties,  and 
it  was  too  good  of  me  to  have  paid  this  bill — 
she  could  see  by  the  date  I  must  have  paid  it 
— and  it  all  was  too  sad,  and  she  hoped  we  should 
meet  later  on,  perhaps  at  Harley !  Her  own  hus- 
band was  coming  home,  slightly  wounded,  she 
added. 

Had  I  been  in  a  laughing  mood  I  should  have 
laughed  aloud  at  the  effrontery  of  the  whole 
thing.  Well,  perhaps  it  was  better  so.  As  far 
as  I  am  concerned  the  whole  incident  shall  be 

286 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

forgotten — a  memory  of  Augustus  sunk  into  the 
past. 

And  so  January  passed  and  February  began. 

It  seems  in  life  that  things  all  come  together. 
One's  days  go  on  smoothly,  uneventfully,  for 
months,  and  then,  one  after  another,  a  series  of 
startling,  unusual  events  occurs,  which  changes 
the  course  of  the  peaceful  river. 

At  the  end  of  February — I  was  still  at  Led- 
stone,  and  my  daily  communications  from  Ame- 
lia told  me  my  poor  mother-in-law  was  still  a 
happy  idiot  —  another  telegram  came  to  me  — 
this  time  it  was  addressed  to  grandmamma — to 
grandmamma  at  the  cottage!  The  very  outside 
startled  me. 

It  was  long,  and  from  an  unknown  firm  of 
lawyers  in  America,  to  say  that  papa  had  died 
out  in  the  West,  leaving  me  and  grandmamma 
a  perfectly  colossal  fortune  —  all  made  in  the 
space  of  three  years,  it  must  have  been. 

I  seemed  past  feeling  any  grief.  Papa  was 
a  shadow,  a  strange  flash  in  my  life  for  so  long 
a  time  now. 

I  was  perfectly  unacquainted  with  business, 
and  had  no  more  idea  than  a  child  what  I  should 
have  to  do  about  this.  I  wished  I  had  a  friend 
to  advise  me.  Where  could  I  turn?  I  thought 
of  Antony.  For  the  first  time  since  my  widow- 
hood I  let  my  thoughts  turn  to  him.  He  would 
give  me  any  advice  I  wanted,  but  then  —  no, 
he  had  had  the  good  taste  never  even  to  write 

287 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

to  me.  There  was  time  enough  for  our  meet- 
ing. I  would  not  push  fate — I,  who  had  been 
a  widow  only  two  months. 

The  only  thing  there  seemed  for  me  to  do 
was  to  start  for  America  immediately,  and,  after 
taking  paid  advice — one  gets  very  good  advice 
by  paying  for  it — Roy,  McGreggor,  my  lawyer, 
and  I  left  England  one  cold  and  bleak  March 
morning. 


IV 


As  my  trip  to  America  was  one  of  business 
entirely,  and  was  unaccompanied  by  any  in- 
teresting incidents  or  adventures,  I  have  let 
it  pass  by  in  silence.  I  was  too  busy  all  the 
time,  and  too  lonely,  to  take  many  fresh 
impressions.  It  seemed  hurry  and  rush,  con- 
tinuous noises,  and  tension  of  the  nerves.  I 
felt  glad  when  I  once  more  found  myself  on 
board  the  great  liner  that  was  taking  me  to 
England. 

It  was  fortunately  a  fine  passage,  not  even 
really  cold  at  the  end  of  May.  Just  over  a  year 
ago  since  I  was  a  very  young  girl,  wonder- 
ing what  life  had  in  store  for  me,  and  in  twelve 
months  a  whole  chapter  of  events  and  sensa- 
tions had  passed.  I  seemed  to  know  the  whole 
string  of  emotions — or  so  I  thought. 

I  had  my  deck-chair  put  where  I  could  watch 
the  waves  receding  as  the  great  ship  cut  her 
way  through  them. 

The  salt  air  seemed  to  bring  fresh  life  to  me — 
fresh  life  and  fresh  ideas.  Two  things  were 
certain — first,  that  I  was  now  much  too  rich  for 
one  woman,  and  Amelia,  who  had  tasted  noth- 

289 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

ing  but  the  rough  bits  of  life,  was  much  too 
poor  after  her  long  service. 

A  scheme  had  come  into  my  head  in  these 
months  alone. 

My  mother-in-law  was  still  an  imbecile,  happy 
and  contented.  She  was  surrounded  with  nurses 
and  all  the  attention  that  money  and  affection 
could  buy.  Why  should  not  poor  Amelia  get 
some  pleasure  out  of  life? 

I  had  a  feeling  that  I,  too,  meant  to  live  when 
the  period  of  my  mourning  should  be  over;  and 
how  glorious  to  live  and  to  forget  that  I  had 
ever  even  had  the  name  of  Gurrage!  I  would 
give  the  whole  of  Augustus's  fortune  to  Amelia ; 
then  she  would  gain  by  it,  and  I,  too,  would  have 
the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that  my  marriage  was 
an  episode,  a  year  to  be  blotted  out  of  my  life. 

This  thought  would  never  have  come  if  Mrs. 
Gurrage  had  not  passed  into  another  sphere  of 
mental  living.  I  would  not  have  wounded  her 
for  the  world. 

I  settled  all  the  details  in  my  mind,  on  my 
voyage  home,  and  no  sooner  got  to  London  than 
I  executed  them.  The  law  is  a  slow  and  de- 
laying business,  and  even  a  deed  of  gift  requires 
endless  formalities  to  go  through. 

Amelia  was  overcome.  Her  gratitude  was 
speechless  some  days,  and  at  others  broke  into 
torrents  of  words. 

"I  can  have  aunt  to  live  with  me  back  in  the 
dear  old  home,"  she  said,  once. 

290 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

To  Amelia  the  crimson-satin  boudoir,  and  the 
negro  figures,  and  the  bears,  and  the  stained- 
glass  window  are  all  household  gods,  and  far 
be  it  from  me  to  wish  to  disillusionize  her. 

And  I?  I  can  take  my  household  gods  to  a 
more  congenial  setting,  perhaps.  Who  can  tell? 
With  the  summer  coming  on  and  the  birds  sing- 
ing it  would  be  useless  for  me  to  pretend  to 
grieve  any  more.  A  joy  lives  always  in  my 
heart.  Some  day — not  too  soon,  but  some  day 
— I  shall  see  Antony. 

I  shall  never  hurry  matters.  If  he  cares  for  me 
as  deeply  as  I  once  thought,  he  will  write  to  me 
soon  or  make  some  sign.  Meanwhile — oh,  I  am 
free!  Free  and  rich  and  young  again!  The 
shadows  are  fading  away. 

Grandmamma  was  right. 

"Remember,  above  all  things,  that  life  is  full 
of  compensations." 

Dear  grandmamma!  I  wish  you  could  come 
back  to  enjoy  this  second  youth  with  me. 

Shall  I  travel?  It  is  late  June  now.  Shall  I 
go  and  see  the  world,  or  shall  I  wait,  and  per- 
haps, later  on,  have  a  companion  to  see  it  with 
me? 

To  avoid  the  Coronation  festivities,  when  all 
details  about  my  transfer  of  Augustus's  prop- 
erty to  Amelia  were  finished,  I  went  over  to 
France.  I  should  stop  at  Versailles  for  a  month 
and  see  the  Marquis  in  Paris,  and  then,  perhaps, 
go  back  to  the  cottage. 

291 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  had  often  heard  from  Lady  Tilchester — 
charming,  sympathetic,  feminine  letters.  I  must 
come  to  them  at  Harley  whenever  I  decided  to 
go  out  a  little,  she  said.  I  felt  the  whole  of 
the  world  was  opening  fairly  for  me. 

I  stopped  a  day  or  two  in  Paris  to  do  a  little 
shopping  on  my  way  to  Versailles,  and  coming 
down  the  steps  at  Ritz  one  day  I  met  Mr.  Budge. 
He  had  come  over  for  a  breath  of  gayer  air,  he 
told  me,  after  the  Coronation  fiasco. 

"You  are  looking  wonderfully  well/'  he  said, 
"and  not  quite  fifty  years  old  now/' 

"I  am  hardly  more  than  thirty/'  I  informed 
him,  "and  hope,  if  the  weather  keeps  fine,  to 
grow  a  little  younger  still/' 

He  said  he  was  glad  to  hear  it,  and  prayed  I 
would  let  him  come  and  see  the  process. 

"One  grows  in  the  night,  when  one  is  asleep," 
I  said,  "  so  no  one  can  see  it.  But  if  you  would 
care  to  take  tea  with  me  in  the  afternoon,  I  shall 
be  very  pleased  to  see  you." 

He  came  the  next  day. 

We  talked  gravely,  as  was  befitting  my  mourn- 
ing. He  gave  me  news  of  my  friends  at  Harley. 

Lady  Tilchester,  he  said,  had  a  new  scheme 
on  hand  for  the  employment  of  the  returning 
volunteers  whose  places  in  business  had  been 
filled  up  in  their  absence.  She  was  absorbed  in 
this  undertaking,  but  when  not  too  busy  was 
more  charming  than  ever. 

"  I  spent  a  Sunday  at  Harley  a  couple  of  weeks 
292 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

ago/'  he  said.  "I  don't  think  many  of  the  peo- 
ple were  there  that  you  met  before — none,  I  be- 
lieve, but  Sir  Antony  Thornhirst." 

"And  how  was  he?"  I  tried  to  say  as  nat- 
urally as  possible. 

"He  seemed  in  the  best  of  health  and  spirits. 
There  is  an  intelligent  person,  if  you  like.  I  wish 
he  would  enter  Parliament." 

"But  Sir  Antony  is  a  Tory,  I  understand, 
Mr.  Budge!  He  would  be  no  use  to  you,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  he  would.  We  want  some  brill- 
iancy just  now  in  the  House  to  wake  us  up. 
It  does  not  matter  which  side  it  comes  from." 

"Don't  you  think  he  is  too  casual  to  care 
enough  about  it?  He  would  not  give  himself 
the  trouble  to  enter  Parliament,  I  believe." 

"That  is  just  it.  The  ablest  people  are  so 
lazy.  Lady  Tilchester  has  often  tried  to  per- 
suade him,  but  he  has  some  whimsical  answer 
ready,  and  remains  at  large." 

I  should  like  to  have  talked  much  more  on  this 
subject,  but  Mr.  Budge  changed  the  conversa- 
tion. He  drifted  into  saying  some  personal 
things  which  did  not  quite  please  me,  consider- 
ing my  mourning.  They  were  not  in  perfect 
taste.  I  remembered  how  in  the  beginning  I 
had  not  liked  his  hands.  One's  first  instincts 
are  generally  right. 

When  he  had  gone  I  said  to  myself  I  should 
not  care  to  see  him  any  more. 

In  Paris  one  finds  a  hundred  things  'to  do 
293 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

and  to  buy  if  one  happens  suddenly  to  have 
become  a  rich  widow,  as  is  my  case.  My  few 
days  stretched  themselves  into  a  week. 

I  had  a  letter  from  the  Marquis  de  Rocher- 
mont.  He  was  returning  to  his  tiny  apartments 
in  the  Rue  de  Varennes  the  following  day,  after 
a  fortnight's  absence,  he  told  me.  The  dear 
old  Marquis !  I  should  be  glad  to  see  him  again. 
He  must  be  a  very  old  man  now,  almost  eighty, 
although  he  was  several  years  grandmamma's 
junior. 

He  would  lunch  with  me  with  pleasure,  he 
said,  and  at  one  next  day  arrived  in  my  sitting- 
room.  He  looked  just  as  he  used  to  do  at  first, 
but  soon  I  noticed  his  gayety  was  gone.  He 
seemed  frail  and  older.  He  had  deeply  grieved 
for  grandmamma. 

His  conversation  was  much  the  same,  how- 
ever. We  spoke  English  as  usual.  I  had 
grown,  he  said,  into  the  most  beautiful  woman 
he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life,  and  my  air  and  my 
dignity  were  worthy  of  the  ancien  regime.  I 
had  found,  he  hoped,  that  his  conseils  had 
been  of  some  use  to  me  in  my  brief  married 
life. 

"Yes,  Marquis/'  I  said,  "I  have  often  been 
grateful  to  you  and  grandmamma." 

"You  are  of  a  great  richesse  now,  n'est-ce 
pas,  mon  enfant?" 

"Yes,  of  a  great  richesse.  And  so  I  have 
given  all  the  Gurrage  money  back  to  one  of  their 

294 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

family — you  may  remember  her — Amelia  Hoad 
was  her  name/' 

"  Ah  I"  he  said,  and  he  kissed  my  hand.  "  That 
was  worthy  of  you  and  worthy  of  your  race. 
It  would  have  pleased  our  dear  madam/' 

"I  had  become  so  rich,  you  see,  from  papa, 
I  did  not  really  want  the  money,  and  I  had  a 
feeling  that  if  I  gave  it  all  back  I  should  have 
no  further  ties  with  them.  I  could  slip  away 
into  another  atmosphere  and  gradually  forget 
this  year  of  my  life." 

We  had  a  delightful  luncheon,  in  spite  of 
my  poor  old  guest's  infirmities;  he  had  grown 
blinder  and  more  tottering  since  last  we  met. 
He  eat  very  little  and  sipped  his  sparkling  hock. 
I  had  determined  somehow  to  try  and  give 
him  some  of  my  great  wealth;  but  how  even  to 
broach  the  subject  I  did  not  know.  At  last, 
driven  into  a  corner  with  nervousness,  I  blurted 
out  my  wishes. 

"Oh,  I  want  you  to  benefit  too,  dear  friend!" 
I  said.  "You  shared  our  poverty,  why  not  my 
riches?" 

His  old,  faded  cheeks  turned  pink.  He  rose 
from  his  chair. 

"I  thank  you,  madam,"  he  said,  haughtily. 
"The  de  Rochermonts  do  not  accept  money  from 


women/' 


I  felt  as  I  used  to  when  grandmamma  was 
ever  displeased  with  me.     My  knees  shook. 
"Oh,  please  forgive  me!"  I  implored.    "I  have 
295 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

always  looked  upon  myself  as  almost  your  child, 
although  we  are  no  relations,  dear  Marquis,  and 
I  thought—" 

"  Assez,  assez,  mon  enfant/'  he  said,  and  he 
resumed  his  chair.  "You  meant  it  gentiment, 
but  it  was  a  bdtise  quand  meme.  We  shall  speak 
of  it  no  more/' 

Before  he  left  he  gave  me  some  more  con- 
seils. 

"  You  took  no  amant,  child?  No?  Well,  per- 
haps in  England  it  was  as  well.  But  now  listen 
to  me.  Be  in  no  hurry  de  prendre  un  second 
mari.  The  agrements  of  life  are  at  their  begin- 
nings for  you.  All  doors  fly  open  to  a  jeune  et 
belle  veuve.  Amusez-vous  bien." 

I  looked  at  him.  We  were  such  old  friends, 
I  could  speak  to  him. 

"  Even  if  one  loved  some  one  very  much,  Mar- 
quis?" I  asked. 

"On  ne  sait  jamais  combien  de  temps  cela  va 
durer,  V amour  a  vingt  ans!  C'est  dangereux!" 
And  he  shook  his  head.  Then,  with  an  air  of 
illumination,  "It  is  your  kinsman,  Sir  Thorn- 
hirst?"  he  said. 

"Yes." 

"And  you  love  him  very  much?" 

"I  think  so." 

"In  all  cases  wait — attendez — surtout — point 
trop  de  hate!" 


VERSAILLES  for  me  is  always  full  of  charms. 
There  is  a  dignity  about  it  which  reminds  me  of 
grandmamma.  I  love  to  walk  in  the  galleries 
and  look  at  the  portraits  of  the  great  ladies  of 
the  past.  The  gay  insouciance  of  their  expres- 
sions, the  daintiness  of  their  poses,  the  beauti- 
ful and  suitable  color  of  everything  give  me  a 
sense  of  satisfaction  and  repose. 

I  had  been  there  for  some  little  while,  spending 
days  of  peace  and  reflection,  when,  nearly  eight 
months  after  the  death  of  Augustus,  I  received 
two  letters. 

It  was  a  most  curious  coincidence  that  neither 
of  my  correspondents  had  written  to  me  before, 
even  letters  of  condolence,  and  that  they  should 
select  the  same  date  now. 

The  letters  were  from  Antony  and  the  Duke. 
They  were  both  characteristic. 

"Comtesse,"  Antony  wrote,  "you  know  I  am 
thinking  of  you  always.  When  may  I  come 
and  see  you,  and  where  ?" 

The  Duke's  was  longer.  It  began  conven- 
tionally, and  went  on  in  delicate  language  to 
tell  me  that  time  was  passing,  and  surely  soon 

297 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  must  be  thinking  of  seeing  my  friends  again, 
and  he  was  entirely  at  my  disposition  when  I 
should  return  to  England. 

This  amused  me.  Antony's  caused  me  a  wave 
of  joy.  Oh!  should  I  be  able  to  take  the  Mar- 
quis's advice  and  wait  for  several  years?  I 
feared  not. 

Of  course,  I  should  not  think  of  marrying 
Antony  yet.  It  would  be  absolutely  indecent 
haste.  Certainly  not  for  eighteen  months  or 
two  years,  anyway.  But  there  could  be  no  harm 
in  my  seeing  him  soon. 

Excitement  tingled  to  my  very  finger-tips  at 
the  thought.  I  did  not  answer  either  letter  for 
nearly  a  week.  I  walked  about  the  gardens 
at  Versailles  and  luxuriously  enjoyed  my  mus- 
ings. 

I  was,  as  it  were,  a  cat  playing  with  a  mouse, 
only  I  was  both  cat  and  mouse. 

One  day  I  would  picture  our  meeting — An- 
tony's and  mine.  The  next  I  would  push  him 
away  from  my  thoughts,  and  decide  that  I  would 
not  even  let  him  come  to  me  until  the  year  was 
up.  Then,  again,  when  it  grew  evening,  and 
the  darkness  gradually  crept  up,  there  came  a 
scent  in  the  air  which  affected  me  so  that  I  longed 
to  see  him  at  once — to  see  him — to  let  him  kiss 
me.  Oh,  to  myself  I  hardly  dared  to  think  of 
this! 

The  kisses  of  Augustus  were,  as  yet,  the  only 
ones  I  knew. 

298 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

At  last  I  wrote  my  answers. 

To  the  Duke  I  said  my  plans  were  uncertain.  I 
did  not  know  when  I  should  return  to  England; 
probably  not  at  all  until  next  year,  as  I  thought 
of  going  to  Egypt  for  the  winter.  I  finished 
with  some  pleasant  platitudes. 

Antony's  answer  took  longer  to  write,  and 
was  only  a  few  words  when  finished. 

"I  am  staying  at  Versailles,"  I  wrote.  "If 
you  like  to  come  and  see  me  casually — to  talk 
about  the  ancestors  —  you  may;  but  not  for  a 
week." 

Why  I  made  this  stipulation  of  a  week  I  do 
not  know.  Directly  I  had  posted  the  letter  I 
felt  the  time  could  never  pass.  It  was  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  I  prevented  myself  from  send- 
ing a  telegram  of  three  words:  "Come  now. 
To-day."  How  would  he  find  me  looking? 
Would  he,  too,  think  I  had  improved  in  appear- 
ance? I  had  grown  an  inch,  it  seemed  to  me.  I 
was  never  very  short,  but  now,  at  five  feet  seven, 
he  could  not  call  me  "  little  Comtesse  "  any  more. 
Oh,  to  hear  his  dear  voice!  To  look  into  his 
greeny-blue,  beautiful  eyes !  Oh,  I  fear  no  advice 
in  the  world  of  a  hundred  marquises  could  keep 
me  from  Antony  much  longer! 

Would  Wednesday  never  come?  The  Wednes- 
day in  August  after  the  Coronation,  that  was  the 
day  I  had  fixed  for  our  meeting. 

Should  I  be  out,  and  leave  a  message  for  him 
to  follow  me  into  the  gardens,  or  should  I  quietly 

299 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

stay  in  my  sitting-room?  What  should  we  say 
to  each  other?  I  must  be  very  calm,  of  course, 
and  appear  perfectly  indifferent,  and  we  must 
not  speak  upon  any  subjects  but  the  pictures 
here,  and  our  mutual  friends,  and  the  pleasure 
of  Paris,  and  the  health  of  the  dogs. 

He  had  replied,  immediately : 

"I  shall  be  there,  and  we  can  talk  of  the  an- 
cestors— and  other  things/'  No,  there  must  be 
no  "other  things"  yet. 

But  what  immense  joy  all  this  was  to  think 
about  for  me!  I  who  had  never  in  all  my  life 
been  able  to  do  as  I  pleased.  Now  I  would 
nibble  at  my  cake  and  enjoy  its  every  crumb — 
not  seize  and  eat  it  all  at  once. 

On  Tuesday  morning  I  got  a  telegram  from 
Lady  Tilchester,  sent  from  Paris.  I  had  written 
to  her  some  days  before.  She  had  run  over  to 
Ritz  for  a  week,  she  said,  to  recover  from  her 
fatigues  of  the  Saturday,  and  would  I  come  into 
town,  and  lunch  with  her  that  day  at  half -past 
twelve? 

With  delight  I  started  in  my  automobile.  I 
had  not  seen  her  for  months. 

"Oh,  you  beautiful  thing!"  she  exclaimed, 
when  we  met.  "  I  have  never  seen  such  a  change 
in  any  one.  You  are  like  an  opening  rose,  a 
glorious,  fresh  flower." 

She  looked  tired,  I  thought,  but  fascinating  as 
ever.  We  lunched  together  in  the  restaurant, 
and  had  a  long  conversation. 

300 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

She  told  me  an  amusing  story  of  the  American 
Lady  Luffton,  whom  she  had  seen  the  day  be- 
fore. An  expected  family  event  had  prevented 
her  from  gracing  the  Coronation. 

"  My  dear  " — and  Lady  Tilchester  imitated  her 
voice  exactly — "  it  is  a  dispensation  of  Providence 
that  circumstances  did  not  permit  me  to  attend 
this  ceremony.  You  Englishwomen  would  have 
gone  anyhow;  but  we  Americans  are  different. 
But,  I  say,  it  is  a  dispensation  of  Providence, 
as  I  am  considerably  contented  with  Luffy  and 
my  position  up  to  the  present  time.  But  if  I 
had  gotten  there,  stuffed  behind  with  the  bar- 
onesses, and  had  seen  those  duchesses  march- 
ing along  with  their  strawberry-leaves  ahead  of 
me,  I  kinder  think  I  should  have  had  a  fit  of 
dyspepsia  right  there  in  the  Abbey." 

After  lunch  we  went  up  to  the  sitting-room. 
I  meant  to  stay  for  half  an  hour  before  going 
back  to  Versailles. 

Telegrams  called  Lady  Tilchester  away  for 
a  little.  She  is  always  so  full  of  business. 

"I  shall  send  Muriel  to  entertain  you  while 
I  answer  these/'  she  said.  "I  brought  her  over 
with  me  to  have  a  glimpse  of  Paris,  too." 

In  a  few  moments  the  sound  of  feet  running 
down  the  passage  caused  me  to  turn  round  as 
the  door  opened  and  a  slender  child  of  ten  or 
eleven  entered  the  room.  She  was  facing  the 
light.  I  happened  to  be  standing  with  my  back 
to  the  window. 

301 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS1NE 

"How  do  you  do?"  she  said,  sweetly,  and 
put  out  her  little  hand.  "Mother  says  I  may 
come  and  talk  to  you." 

There  are  some  moments  in  life  too  anguish- 
ing for  words! 

Her  face  is  the  face  of  Lady  Tilchester,  but 
her  eyes  —  her  eyes  are  grayish  -  greeny  -  blue, 
with  black  edges,  and  that  look  like  a  cat's, 
that  can  see  in  the  dark. 

Now  I  know  whom  her  photograph  reminded 
me  of. 

There  can  be  only  one  other  pair  of  such  eyes 
in  the  world. 

I  don't  remember  what  I  said.  Something 
kind  and  banal.  Then  I  invented  an  excuse  to 
go  away. 

"Give  my  best  love  to  your  mother,  dear/' 
I  said,  "and  say  I  must  not  stop  another  mo- 
ment. I  have  remembered  an  important  ap- 
pointment with  the  dressmaker,  and  I  must 
fly!" 

She  put  up  her  mignonne  oval  face  to  kiss  me. 

"I  have  heard  so  much  of  you,"  she  said. 
"  I  wanted  so  to  see  you.  I  wish  you  could  have 
stayed."  And  so  we  kissed  and  parted. 

When  I  got  into  the  automobile  outside,  I 
felt  as  if  I  were  going  to  faint  for  a  few  awful 
moments.  Everything  was  clear  to  me  now! 
I  remembered  the  little  photograph  on  his  man- 
tel-piece, his  sudden  changing  of  the  conver- 
sation, a  number  of  small  things  unnoticed 

302 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROS/NE 

at  the  time.  How  had  I  been  so  ridiculously 
blind?  It  was  because  she  seemed  so  great 
and  noble,  and  utterly  apart  from  all  these 
things. 

Had  it  been  Babykins  or  Lady  Grenellen, 
or  any  other  woman,  this  discovery  would  have 
made  no  difference  to  me.  I  did  not  doubt  that 
Antony  loved  me,  and  me  only,  now.  He  had 
been  "not  wearyingly  faithful,"  like  the  rest 
of  his  world,  that  was  all. 

But  she  —  Lady  Tilchester  —  my  friend!  Oh, 
I  could  not  take  her  lover  from  her!  She  who 
had  always  been  so  good  to  me,  from  the  first 
moment  of  our  acquaintance,  kind  and  sym- 
pathetic and  dear!  I  owed  her  deepest  grati- 
tude. If  one  of  us  must  suffer,  it  should  cer- 
tainly be  I.  I  could  not  play  her  false  like  this. 
Of  course  she  loved  him  still!  He  was  often 
with  her,  I  knew,  and  her  face  had  softened 
when  first  she  spoke  of  him.  They  had  known 
each  other  for  fourteen  years,  she  had  said.  I 
seemed  to  see  it  all.  This  was  her  "mid-sum- 
mer madness/'  and  Antony  had  gone  away 
to  travel  for  several  years,  and  then  returned 
to  her  again.  They  had  probably  been  so  happy 
together  until  I  came  upon  the  scene. 

Well,  they  can  be  happy  once  more  when 
he  forgets  me.  I,  at  least,  shall  not  stand  in 
the  way.  Dear  Margaret,  I  am  not  so  mean 
as  that!  You  shall  keep  your  lover,  and  I  will 
never  have  mine! 

303 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

All  my  life  I  shall  hate  the  road  to  Versailles. 
"Go  at  top  speed/'  I  told  my  chauffeur. 

I  felt  if  we  might  dash  against  a  tree  and 
have  done  with  the  whole  matter,  it  would  be 
the  best  thing  in  the  end. 

The  rapid  motion  through  the  air  revived  me. 
I  had  my  wits  about  me  when  we  drew  up  at 
the  hotel  door. 

"I  am  going  to  Switzerland  to-night/'  I  said 
to  McGreggor.  "Pack  up  everything/' 

She  is  a  maid  of  wonderful  sense. 

"Very  well,  ma'am/'  she  said,  without  the 
slightest  appearance  of  surprise. 

I  sat  down  and  wrote  a  telegram  to  Antony. 
It  would  just  catch  him.  He  was  to  leave  by  the 
night  mail: 

"  I  have  seen  Muriel  and  I  know.  Lady  Tilchester  has 
been  always  kind  to  me.  Do  not  come.  Good-bye." 

Then  I  took  it  to  the  post-office  myself. 
That  night  we  left  for  Lucerne  —  McGreggor 
and  Roy  and  I. 


VI 

IT  being  August,  crowds  of  tourists  faced  me 
everywhere.  Lucerne,  which  I  had  always  heard 
was  such  a  pretty  place,  filled  me  with  loath- 
ing. I  only  stayed  a  day  there.  At  last,  after 
stopping  in  several  places,  we  arrived  one  after- 
noon at  Zui'ebad.  Here,  at  least,  there  were 
no  tourists,  only  ugly  rheumatic  invalids,  and 
unattractive.  What  made  me  choose  such  a 
place  I  do  not  know,  unless  it  was  because  I 
happened  to  see  the  name  printed  large  upon 
the  map.  Any  place  would  do.  I  had  not 
felt  much  in  my  rapid  rush.  A  numbness,  as 
of  a  limb  cut  off,  an  utter  indifference  to  every- 
thing in  life. 

But  when  I  found  myself  alone  in  the  vast 
pine-woods,  an  anguish,  as  of  physical  pain, 
took  possession  of  me.  Every  tree  spoke  to 
me  of  Antony.  The  surroundings  were  all 
perfect. 

What  would  he  do?  Would  he  follow  me 
and  try  to  persuade  me  to  alter  my  mind?  Oh 
no,  he  could  never  do  that.  He  would  know 
that  this  must  be  final.  What  had  been  his 
idea  all  along?  How  could  he  think  I  should 

305 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

never  find  out,  and  having  done  so,  that  I  would 
ever  accept  such  a  position? 

Or  was  it  that  he,  like  all  his  world,  thought 
so  lightly  of  passing  from  one  love  to  another 
that  fidelity  to  Lady  Tilchester  was  among  the 
catalogue  of  things  that  do  not  count. 

I  had  taken  no  pains  to  hide  my  whereabouts. 

At  each  hotel  they  would  know  to  where  I 
had  gone  on.  For  days  a  feverish  excitement 
took  possession  of  me.  Every  knock  at  the 
door  made  me  start.  Would  he  write?  Would 
he  make  any  sign?  I  almost  prayed  not,  and 
yet  I  feared  and  longed  to  hear  from  him. 

This  is  not  a  school-girl  love  story  I  am  writ- 
ing, but  the  chronicle  of  my  life.  I  have  al- 
ways despised  sentimental  heart-burnings,  and 
when  I  used  to  read  of  the  heroine  dying  for 
love,  it  always  made  me  laugh.  But,  oh,  never 
again  can  I  know  such  bitterness  in  life  as  I 
have  suffered  in  this  black  week — to  have  been 
so  near  to  bliss,  and  now  to  be  away  forever! 

What  good  to  me  were  my  freedom  and  riches? 
As  well  be  married  or  dead.  I  never  knew  be- 
fore how  much  I  had  been  looking  forward  to 
seeing  Antony  again.  I  never  realized  how,  in- 
stinctively, for  months  my  soul  had  been  living 
in  the  background  on  this  thought. 

And  now  it  was  all  finished.  I  must  not  be  a 
coward.  Oh,  how  I  wished  again  for  grand- 
mamma's spirit!  This  time  I  must  tear  the 
whole  thing  out  of  my  life  at  once. 

306 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

To  go  on  caring  for  another  woman's  lover 
was  beneath  contempt. 

When  I  should  have  recovered  a  little,  I  would 
go  back  to  England  and  mix  with  the  world, 
and  gradually  forget,  and  eventually  marry 
the  Duke.  Fortunately,  as  the  Marquis  said,  & 
mngt  ans  one  could  never  be  sure  of  love  last- 
ing. So  probably  I  should  soon  be  cured,  and 
there  would  be  compensation  in  being  an  Eng- 
lish duchess.  It  was  a  great  position,  as  Miss 
Corrisande  K.  Trumpet  had  said.  And  all  men 
make  good  enough  husbands  if  you  have  con- 
trol of  the  dollars,  I  remember  she  added. 

Well,  I  should  have  control  of  the  dollars.  So 
we  should  see. 

The  Duke  was  a  gentleman,  too,  and  intelli- 
gent, agreeable,  and  had  liberal  views.  His  Duch- 
ess might  eventually  have  a  "friend/'  like  the 
rest,  he  had  said.  So,  no  doubt,  I  should  be 
able  to  acquire  the  habit  of  thus  amusing  myself. 
Why  should  I  hesitate,  when  the  best  and  the 
noblest  gave  me  examples? 

All  my  ideas  on  those  subjects  had  fallen  to 
pieces  like  a  pack  of  cards. 

" '  Eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to  -  morrow 
you  die/" 

Well,  I  had  never  eaten  or  drunk  of  happiness 
yet,  and  now  my  heart  was  dead.  So  what 
was  the  good  of  it  all,  anyway?  A  quoi  bon? 
and  again,  &  quoi  bon  ?  That  is  what  the  trees 
said  to  me  when  they  tired  of  calling  for  Antony. 

307 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

I  breakfasted  and  lunched  and  dined  and 
walked  miles  every  day.  I  loathed  my  food.  I 
hated  the  faces  of  the  people  who  stared  at  me. 
I  fear  I  even  snapped  at  McGreggor.  Roy  was 
my  only  comfort. 

But  gradually  the  beauty  and  peace  of  the 
pine-forests  soothed  me.  Better  thoughts  came. 
I  said  to  myself:  "Enough.  Now  you  will  go 
home  and  face  life.  At  least  you  can  try  to  do 
some  good  in  the  world,  and  with  your  great 
wealth  make  some  poor  creatures  happy.  You 
have  behaved  according  to  your  own  idea  of 
gratitude  and  honor.  No  one  asked  you  to  do 
it;  therefore,  why  sit  there  and  growl  at  fate? 
Have  courage  to  carry  the  thing  through.  No 
more  contemptible  repinings." 

Far  away  up  the  hills  there  is  a  path  that 
leads  to  an  open  space — a  tiny  peep  out  over 
the  tree-tops,  sheer  precipices  below.  I  would 
go  there  for  the  last  time,  and  to-morrow  return 
to  England. 

The  climb  was  steep.  I  was  a  little  out  of 
breath,  and  leaned  on  the  stone  ledge  to  rest 
myself  when  I  arrived  at  the  top.  I  was  quite 
alone. 

The  knife  on  my  chatelaine  caught  in  the  lich- 
en and  dragged  at  the  chain.  It  angered  me.  I 
took  it  off  the  twisted  ring  and  looked  at  it. 

"Little  'ill  omen/  as  he  called  you,  is  it  your 
fault  that  once  fate,  once  honor,  and  once  grati- 

308 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

tude  to  a  woman  have  kept  me  from  my  love? 
Well,  I  shall  throw  you  away  now,  then  I  shall 
have  no  link  left  to  remind  me  of  foolish  things 
that  might  have  been/' 

I  lifted  my  arm,  and  with  all  my  might  flung 
the  tiny,  glittering  thing  out  into  the  air.  It  fell 
far  away  down  among  the  tree-tops  in  the  valley. 

Then  I  turned  to  go  down  the  hill.  I  had  done 
with  ridiculous  sentiment,  which  I  had  always 
disliked  and  despised. 

Footsteps  were  coming  towards  me  up  the 
long,  winding  path.  It  was  a  lonely  place.  I 
hoped  it  was  not  one  of  the  fat  German  Jews 
who  had  followed  me  once  or  twice.  Ugly 
creatures! — hardly  human,  they  seemed  to  me. 
I  wished  I  had  Roy  with  me.  He  had  gone  with 
McGreggor  into  the  town. 

A  bend  in  the  path  hid  the  person  from  view 
until  we  met  face  to  face. 

And  then  I  saw  it  was  Antony,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  my  heart  stopped  beating. 

"  At  last  I  have  found  you,  Ambrosine,  sweet- 
heart!" he  said,  and  he  clasped  me  in  his  arms 
and  kissed  my  lips. 

Then  I  forgot  Lady  Tilchester  and  gratitude 
and  honor  and  self-control,  because  in  nature 
I  find  there  is  a  stronger  force  than  all  these 
things,  and  that  is  the  touch  of  the  one  we  love. 

It  was  perhaps  an  hour  afterwards.  The  shad- 
ows looked  blue  among  the  pine-trees. 

309 


THE  REFLECTIONS  OF  AMBROSINE 

We  sat  on  a  little  wooden  bench.  There  was 
a  warm,  still  silence.  Not  a  twig  moved.  A  joy 
so  infinite  seemed  everywhere  around. 

"It  was  all  over  between  us  ten  years  ago/' 
Antony  said.  "It  only  lasted  a  year  or  two, 
when  we  were  very  young.  The  situation  galled 
us  both  too  much,  and  Tilchester  was  always 
my  friend.  She  knows  I  love  you,  and  she  only 
cares  for  her  great  works  and  her  fine  position 
now.  So  you  need  not  have  fled,  Comtesse." 

"I  shall  tell  you  something,  Antony/'  I  whis- 
pered. "I  am  glad  I  am  doing  no  wrong,  but 
if  it  was  to  break  Lady  Tilchester's  heart,  if 
grandmamma  were  to  come  back  and  curse  me 
here  for  forgetting  all  her  teachings,  if  it  was 
almost  disgrace  —  now  that  I  know  what  it  is 
like  to  stay  in  your  arms — I  should  stay!" 


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